


Hamartia

by shorthairedbabe



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-01-07 06:21:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 53,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18404897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shorthairedbabe/pseuds/shorthairedbabe
Summary: /noun/a fatal flaw leading to the downfall of a tragic hero or heroine."Mr. Morgan, you must understand... Even though you lost the battle, you ended up winning the war.""How so?""You are finally free."





	1. Prologue 1 - Wapiti Reservation

**Author's Note:**

> So, before I start this story I must forewarn you that there WILL be spoilers to the ending of this game. I highly recommend that if you don't want any spoilers, that you click away now and you finish the main story of the game. Trust me it's worth it.
> 
> Another thing about this story is that it's canon divergent. I want to try and keep it close to the events that happened in the main story minus specific things (i.e.: Arthur's death, Abigail's pregnancy, and more as I go along with the story), and I want to try and create something that is extremely different then the kinds of situations that Arthur has ever dealt with in his life time.
> 
> This story will also be a slow burn, and since this my first fic in this series, ideas, constructive criticism, and love is always welcome. If you feel like I can do some characters better let me know so that way I can give you all something enjoyable and realistic.
> 
> This will be rated M for violence, and other things that I don't want to spoil for this story.

Annabel pushed her gelding up the path towards the Wapiti Reservation in hopes that she's not too late. Her white buckskin; with flared nostrils, straining muscles, and loud whines, did his best to climb up the path fast. She cursed herself for leaving them by themselves for a few days, she should have known better.

As she came up on the final stretch of path up towards the reservation, she slowed her gelding to a trot before hopping off of him without even stopping him.

"Captain Monroe!" she pulled on the reins to hitch him up, patting his neck as she passed and ran to Captain Monroe. She lifted her skirt a bit to keep from tripping or ripping the hem. "Captain Monroe! I got your telegram, I am so sorry I couldn't come sooner."

Captain Monroe's face softened and his shoulder released the tension that he didn't realize that he was holding, "Dr. Fletcher, thank god you're here!" He walked to her and guided her towards who needed her attention, "Some of the children are growing incredibly sick. Please," he begged her, a look of pain washed over his face, "Can you help them?"

"I will do what I can." Her soft, sympathetic smile was calming to him, giving him a slight ease of mind that everything will be okay.

As she and Monroe walked towards her horse to grab her medical supplies, a man rode up. He was… scruffy looking, but everything about him caught Annabel's eyes.

"Captain Monroe?" his voice was as rough as he looked, causing her soul to vibrate and the hair to stand on the back of her neck. He glanced at her, confused and curious all at once, but she could tell he was here for something else.

"Mr. Morgan." Monroe nodded towards the newcomer, placing a hand on Annabel's shoulder, "He's gonna help us."

"Help us how?"

"I don't know yet, but I will figure it out."

As this Mr. Morgan dismounted and hitched his horse, he realized how small this woman was. She must have been a foot shorter then him, carrying what looked like some heavy bags from her tall horse. The horse's withers were a bit taller than her.

"Let me grab that for ya, miss –"

"Dr. Fletcher." She corrected, as she let him take her bag, "I am Dr. Fletcher."

"Where'd a little missy like you learn to be a doctor?"

"Pennsylvania." Her voice was soft and eloquent and warm and so… inviting, "And if you would please place the bag on the table over there that would be amazing."

"Well, Here I am, as promised." He walked up the Monroe, with Annabel and her bag in tow. He placed her back carefully on the table and tipped his hat to her.

"The chief's gone out trying to find medication." He watched as Annabel worked on pulling out simple tonics and other items from the bags, handing some things to Captain Monroe, "It's quite a business."

She lingered for a moment, looking between both the men before taking a pair of gloves and some of the tonics to go towards the children in need of something to ease their ailments.

"I can handle things until you get back, I'll take care of everyone here."

"Thank you, Dr. Fletcher." She smiled again, tipping her head to Arthur before walking off.

"So…" Arthur wasn't sure if he should even ask about it.

"She's been a great help to this reservation and me."

"She's young."

"And extremely bright. This place would a lot worse without her." They both watched as she was gentle and caring, giving the bitter tonics to the least sick children and moving on to the next. Arthur shrugged and continued to talk with Monroe before they both left with their horses, with talk of stealing the medicine from the U.S. Army.

Monroe came back thirty minutes later, when Annabel was taking a moment to feed some of the weaker elders. She looked up at him, looking exhausted and worn out but she still had that sweet smile on her face.

She tried her best to help the few who came to her get comfortable before walking to Monroe.

"How are things?" she sighed, pursing her lips and looking away.

"Some of the kids are in terrible condition. Their fevers are growing, they have the chills and the tonics I have are only for mild symptoms." She looked slightly desperate for a miracle, and so was Monroe. "We  _need_  medicine, but neither you nor I can require that."

"Well, Mr. Morgan said he would help."

"Help how?" Monroe looked slightly ashamed, "Is he… stealing it from them?"

"Yes." She groaned and turned away, "What other choice did I have?" she looked out towards the camp, with the sun dropping down past the mountains leaving the sky kissed with pinks and reds and oranges. These people were suffering, and she had no right to be angry about stealing something that would help them heal, even in the slightest.

"Are they oral?"

"No, they need to be injected."

"Do they come with the needles?"

"Yes." She took a deep breath and look over to him, hope filling her soul.

"I will go clean up then."

They waited an hour, checking in on the sick folk around them and waiting anxiously for the man to return with the much needed medicine. Annabel was worried the most about this situation. A man that they barely knew was stealing something from the government to help those in need. The situation sounded a lot like something her father would do, and near the end of her thoughts she couldn't be worried about it anymore.

She her hooves coming in the distance and she suddenly grew anxious again. She hoped – prayed – that he had the medicine.

He dismounted, did a quick scan of the camp, looking for the two from earlier. He wondered how much this medicine would help and how this will affect both Captain Monroe and Dr. Fletcher.

"Captain Monroe." He called out, but saw Annabel first, "Dr. Fletcher." She had a small smile from that, "I've got the medicine." Captain Monroe perked up at the, and Annabel sat up from her chair.

"Oh, wonderful. That's great news, Mr. Morgan." They started to exchange the small boxes of vials, opening each box to make sure that nothing was broken.

"Yeah, well. Don't worry, it… it didn't go to bad." Annabel looked up at him with question, and she wanted to ask what he did, and what he does in general but she wasn't here to be invasive, she was here to heal.

"Well, I'll have to take your word for that." She took both the boxes from Monroe and started to get ready. Monroe looked at Annabel briefly who merely nodded and let go of a deep sigh. "We could both swing for this."

"Yeah, well, it's not like it's the first time the idea hung over my head." Annabel looked up at him and her breath hitched a little.

"Maybe, I just hope that Colonel Favours thinks he was robbed by bandits, and not…"

"Oh no, I'm still a bandit. There ain't no doubt about that."

"Of course." Monroe shook Arthur's hand, "Well, we better get to work. Thank you, Mr. Morgan."

Arthur tipped his hat towards Annabel, and she smiled at him this time he could see the exhaustion setting over her face but she still had time to give him something incredibly sweet. "Bandit or not, this was a good thing. Maybe it'll get us both killed, but it has to be done."

"I hope so." He started to walk away, and Annabel started to feel something bubble in her chest. He did this without getting anything in return. For a bandit, that seems too noble. She quickly dug through her bag for something – anything – to give him.

"Mr. Morgan!" she grabbed two small tonic bottles and ran towards him, lifting her skirt with one hand and holding the materials in the other. "Wait, hold on!" he stopped and turned, looking intrigued but not surprised. "Take this." She gently placed the small bottles in his gloved hands, "I wish I had more to give you, but right not this will have to do." She pointed to each one, "One's for stomach aches and the other is for common cold symptoms. Hopefully they will be of use to you."

"Thank you, miss." He smiled this time, no tipping of his hat, no nodding of his head. "This alone is too much."

"Nonsense." She waved him off, "If you or anyone you know needs medical assistance, I'm near a cliff overlooking Donner Falls. You can't miss it."

"Thanks again."

"Be safe riding out there, Mr. Morgan." And with a wave in his direction, she walked off to go back to healing those who needed healing.

Somehow; somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered about her.

And for the rest of his ride back to camp, she didn't leave his mind.

* * *

He couldn't remember where exactly she said her place was, but he knew he was going into the general direction.

"Find Donner Falls…" he muttered to himself, patting his stallion on the neck as he climbed up the trial. He had traveled for a few days all over the country side, and he was without a doubt in need of more of those tonics that she gave him.

Not for himself however.

Poor Jack had fallen ill with cold.

Or he thinks it was a cold. Either way, he hoped that she would be able to help.

He let himself enjoy the sky as the sun started to rise over the snowcapped mountains, painting the sky with pinks and reds and oranges leaving a cheerful and happy tone to the world. Almost as if to say today was gonna be a good day.

He chuckled at the thought, pulling out his journal to get some sort of picture out onto paper. If only he had colors to truly get the feeling of the morning.

His horse trotted up the path for a little bit longer before they came over a small hill and over looked into the canyon. Donner Falls. Mist came up, giving off a refreshing smell that differs from the smell of mud and raw earth. The slight smell of fish, fresh water and the sound of elk calls in the distance helped him remember  _why_ he was here.

To seek freedom.

Freedom within nature.

And himself.

He pulled on the reins, making his horse halt and leaned on the horn. He had to look a little bit before he saw the wood cabin overlooking the falls. It was charming, in a way, to be somewhere so beautiful but also so damn dangerous.

"Well I'll be damned…" he chuckled, squeezed his legs and pulling the reins to guide his horse back to the path. It was refreshing to see, really. Someone that is within this mess live in a place so gorgeous.

He crossed over the river, had his stallion carefully climbed over the rocks and walked over to the hitching post.

"Hello?" he heard something fall and clatter inside the house before the door opened.

There was no hesitation in her actions as she walked out into the world, unarmed and trusting, with a smile on her face, sleeves rolled up and an apron around her waist.

"Ah, Mr. Morgan." Her smile grew bigger, and he started to notice her features better than their last encounter. Dark brown eyes that were covered by thick lashes, her lips were plump, wet and soft and the smile that graced them did it justice. Her eyebrows were well maintained and thick and… well… She definitely got some great features from her parents.

He removed his hat from head, holding it to his chest. "Dr. Flet–."

"Oh, please Mr. Morgan." Her laugh was glorious, and light and it made his chest hurt, "Anna is fine with me if it's fine with you." She wiped her hands on her white apron, "Dr. Fletcher was also my mother."

"Oh." He licked his lips for a second, realizing how chapped they were, "Then call me Arthur."

"Alright, Arthur." She moved to the side, motioning to the door. "Come on in, and I'll see what I can do to help you."

"Thank you."

* * *

She waved at him as he galloped off onto the trail. Annabel always found enjoyment in help those who needed it.

"Little bell." She looked over at her father, who wheeled himself over to the front door, "He was a nice feller." She laughed lightly at her father's comment.

"That he was, definitely not like the other bandits I have heard of, or seen for that matter."

"Hopefully, he comes by again. I could see his enjoyment towards you."

"Papa!" she tapped his arm, "Let's get you inside, I made some Lunch."


	2. Prologue 2 - Donner Falls Pt.1

A few months have passed since she had seen Arthur. She wasn’t sure why her thoughts would wonder to him from time to time, but they did. The sound of his voice caused her to rattle something deep within her, and her body to flush something hot and cold at the same time. It was a weird concept to her, to be honest. Like something that lingered in her stomach and chest and caused her arms and legs to tingle.

She sighed the thoughts away, and tried her best to get back to work before the sun feel too far behind the mountains. The sky went from blue to purple to teal and the clouds settled low in the sky. The smell of fresh water from the falls behind her and calming soothing sounds of crashing, echoing water from below were calming, but they weren’t enough.

She had a sinking feeling in her stomach as night seemed to settle too fast. Annabel was scared, and she wasn’t sure why, but she was. That bit of her that wanted to hide from all the dangers the world could bring tugged at her, and she almost succumbed to it, until gunshot rang through the air.

Birds squawked and scattered into the sky, deer and other small game animals were running away from the noise.

“Little bell?!” her father called from inside, “Come inside! I don’t want you to get hurt!” he wheeled himself out the front door and onto the porch to watch her, just to make sure.

She looked between her father and where the battle raged on. A strong feeling in her stomach tugged at her, even though the fearful child in her sobbed for her to run to pa and be safe.

But she couldn’t be fearful forever.

Annabel huffed, running up the stairs and past her father, who screamed at her not to leave. She snatched the Lancaster that hung unused by the front door and jumped out towards her horse.

Her father’s cries were drowned out by the gunshots and the rush of blood filled her ears and the thumping of her heart.

Why? Why was she doing this? She shouldn’t get involved, but here she was jumping on her horse with no gear but the gun and pushing her gelding hard. She raced the cream buckskin up the path towards the hills and mountains and tried to keep the tears of being too late away. She wasn’t going to be late, she wasn’t going to let anyone die tonight.

Silence washed over the moon lit valley and she was scared that things came to a stalemate. It approached so abruptly, so painfully. Annabel hoped that there was someone alive. She prayed even though she has never prayed in her life.

Her horse slows to a trot as she ascends the mountain and upon the scene, and her she can feel her throat tighten and tears threaten to fall. Bodies littered the base of the mountain, and some near the top.

One shot, then two. The noise echoed through the night and through her and it felt like it pushed her back. Dread filled her body as yells of pain and anguish filled the sky right after.

She pushed the gelding once more, whispering words of appraisal to him as he climbed. Her body was numb from the cold, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to see if anyone was alive.

As she reached the top, she yelled out, hoping someone would answer her plea.

“Hello?” She dismounted her horse, pulling him by the halter even though he resisted a bit.

“Hello!?” She called again, but louder, worried that maybe she was too late. Annabel felt hot, painful dread fill her body as she scanned the area again. She wanted to scream and cry but no noise left her lips.

She was ready to turn back, to leave the area full of death and dread and depression, but there was a faint sound that just tugged her back.

A voice…

“I’m here…” his voice was weak, and filled with tension and despair. “I’m here…” she heard a wet cough and then a wheeze, but she was filled with hope again. He was alive. This person was alive and she could help.

She pulled her horse with her hard as she tried to rush to the man’s side, hope and faith filled her body too fast that it made her feel the cold again. As she closed on the source of the voice, she was met with a familiar face and a familiar drawl.

“I’m ‘ere…”

It was Arthur…

“Oh, Mr. Morgan…” she released the halter and ran to his side, kneeling next to him and assessing the situation. Two bullet wounds, one in his left side the other in right shoulder. His shoulder wasn’t too bad but his side was nothing but soft, tender tissue and he was bleeding too much.

She removed her apron and pressed hard on the side wound causing him to yell out in pain and seethe. He did his best to take deep breaths but his couldn’t keep a steady rhythm. “Mr. Morgan, what are you doing out here?”

“Annabel..?” he winced as she tried to stuff it deeper in the wound. “Ya need to get out of ‘ere…”

“There all gone, It’s okay.”

“It’s not safe.”

“So much safer for you then, huh.” He grumbled, but she wasn’t sure if was because of her or because of the pain. He grimaced and huffed, “Mr. Morgan, I need to get you on the horse.” She was quiet, soft hands brushing against his forehead. He didn’t realize how hot he was until her cold fingers grazed over his cheek. He practically leaned into her touch, it was just to comforting to lean away from. “Can you stand?”

“I dunno…"

“Can you try?” she place a hand on his shoulder, hoping that would encourage him to try.

“Sure, but… But yer tiny and I’m dead weight.”

“Don’t be so snarky, Mr. Morgan.” She was being playful, but her tone could say otherwise.

She barely managed to get him up onto his feet, but with a few stumbles and pain filled noises, they made it up. But now she has to get him on the horse.

She strained to keep him up on his feet, as he leaned on her just too much and it almost caused her to fall. Annabel commanded her gelding to lay down on his stomach and she thanked herself for all of those years of dedication and sleepless nights training him.

“Arthur…” she was breathless from the work, but they managed – he managed. “You’re going to be okay.”

“Ya so sure, huh…” his voice was soft and laced with exhaustion.

“I am…” she placed Arthur on the back and kept his steady as she got the horse to stand. “This is Flynn… He won’t let you fall off…”

“He’s a good horse… Layin’ down like that.”

“Years of training can get that, you know.” She led them both home, making sure to keep Arthur awake. She was scared, that she was only extending his pain than helping him.

As they descended the mountain, things seem to lighten up. The sun started to rise as they came upon the little cabin nestled in the woods.

“Are you still with me?”

“Unfortunately …” He coughed, then sighed.

“Don’t be that way.” They came around the bend, and all they could hear was the sound of her father’s cries.

“Annabel!” he couldn’t get past the porch stairs, she pulled in the ramp earlier that day. “Sweet child! You can’t go doing that! What if you got hurt!?”

“Pa, please!” she pulled Arthur off her horse, and tried not to collapse from the sheer weight he put on her. “Now is not the time for arguments!”

“Little bell…” he saw the shape that the man was in and he curse himself for raising her to be so heroic and encouraging her to be so courageous. “Get him inside, I’ll make some hot water.”

“Arthur, you still with me?” his groans and pained coughs were enough for her, but he still grumbled out some words.

“Yeah…”

“Good. I need you to walk a little if you can.” He groans, and Annabel can feel his pain vibrate through her.

He stumbles as she supports him up the porch and up another flight of stair. Her praises felt like milk and honey in a disgusting cup of coffee and her feather like touches were so careful but firm.

“We’re nearly there, just a little bit more okay?” he nods, not sure if she saw it but he did anyways. His vision was blurring and his body was getting heavier and heavier with each and every step. He wanted to collapse right on the creaky wood flooring and not care if he bleeds out and dies right there.

He was ready for it anyway.

“Just a little bit more… please…” her voice brought him comfort as they took a few more, pain filled steps before he was allowed to fall onto the bed.

He doesn’t remember much after that. Some memories cling to him though.

The soft hands along his side, the slight stinging of stitches and the hushed, soothing hums coming from Annabel. She checked on him a lot through the days, changing his bandages, keeping his temperature down, and giving him water through the day.

He was happy to not remember much of the pain he had endured, and he was lucky that she showed up to make it go away.

This went on for weeks, until he woke up and started to understand his surroundings.

The room smelled of lavender and mint, and a fresh breeze flew through the open window over to the right of him. The sheer curtains wisped in the wind and the sound of leaves rustling in the wind calmed his nerves.

His body felt so heavy and he had no urge to get up yet. He wanted to stay in this moment, this calming moment where the world around him didn’t want him dead.

Arthur felt like he needed to get up after what felt like minutes, but he noticed the sun started to fall and shine into the room. He groaned as he shifted and pushed himself up. His arms felt weak as he pushed himself up and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. His legs shook as he steadied himself, not wanting to fall flat on his face trying to stand up.

Just as he was about to stand up, there was a knock. Then a soft voice.

“Arthur?”

Did he make too much noise?

“Can I come in?”

He cleared his throat only to cough and wheeze. He covered his mouth and coughed hard, making a weird noise he’s never made before. He was so busy coughing that he didn’t realize that she had come in and offered him a cup of water.

“Drink it slowly, too fast and you might choke.” She was kneeled down in front of him, hand on his knee and looking up with love and warmth.

He tried his best to drink it slowly, but he felt like he hadn’t had water in years and ended up downing the cup in seconds. His gulp and his gasp of satisfaction were followed by a loud singular cough to clear out the phlegm in his throat.

“I’ll bring you more water, in the meantime,” she passed him a small bowl of stew, and the smell was heavenly, “Eat. I’ll be back.”

He watched as she stood and wiped her hands on her apron. Her dress fell right before her ankles, showing her scrunched up socks and lace up boots that fall right above the ankle. Her apron tied around her waist and fell all the way down to the end of her dress, the pockets filled with was looked like herbs and small tools. Her top half looked relaxed, with her quarter sleeves and a low neckline, showing a scar along the side of her throat that he didn’t remember her having. Her hair was _long_ , no longer put up in a large bun but instead in a low braid that ended right at her hips. Her skin was golden tan and her eyes gleamed auburn and hazel.

Watching her sway her hips as she leaves was enticing and painful. A woman who looks so delicate was so strong and powerful,  _intelligent_.

He looked down at his stew, and the smell of thyme and rosemary and basil as well as what smelled like venison filled his nose. He took one bite, and ended up downing the rest within minutes. He didn’t realize how hungry he was.

She came back, folded clothes in one arm and a glass of water in the other, “I brought you some fresh clothes. I didn’t know what size you wore but I used your old clothes as a reference.” She placed the neatly folded clothes on a chair across from the bed.

“Thank you…” he looked down at his clean bowl, wanted more but too afraid to ask for more. She already did a lot for him.

She took the bowl from his hand gently and replaced it with the water, “get dressed and come down stairs if you want more stew.” She smiled at him and stared at him for a moment too long before leaving and closing the door behind her.

She leaned against his door and took a deep breath. She didn’t think he would pull through, after being asleep for as long as he was, but she was ecstatic that he was alive _and_ awake.

Annabel came down the stairs, smiling from ear to ear and the older man at the end of the table noticed. “He’s awake?”

“He is. I didn’t think that he would pull through.” He put down his paper next to his bowl of stew and took a bite.

“It’ll be nice to have another person around the house to help you with the work.”

“Pa, do not force him to stay.” She pointed at him and scowled, “Once he’s down healing and he wants to leave, he may. He doesn’t owe us anything. He doesn’t _me_ anything.”

“He should. Plus, it would be nice to know that my daughter is safe once I pass.”

“Stop talking like you’re about to die.” Her father shrugged.

Loud, sloppy steps descended from the stairs and they both look towards him. Arthur froze, not used to having eyes on him, even if it was only two people.

“Good morning, Mr. Morgan.” The old man spoke, then took a sip of water, “I’m glad to see you up and about.”

“Thank you, Mister…” he couldn’t really remember his name. Hell, he wasn’t sure he was even told.

“Morgan. You can call me Morgan.” Morgan’s eyes brightened at Arthurs manners. “Take a seat, she’ll get you some more stew.”

He stumbled over to the table, noticing the lovely smell of dried wild flowers and dried herbs and roots hanging from the wall and ceiling. Bundles upon bundles were lined in rows above the dining table and the kitchen island. The cabin was homey, the couch was covered in furs, and the coffee table had books and old maps bundled together. The fireplace was made from stone and cement and adjacent to it were three large bookshelves line right next to each other overflowing with books. Some of the books were lined up and stacked to hip height on the floor.

It was cozy, and warm, and he didn’t want to leave this place ever.

A bowl of stew was placed in front of him and it was that same heavenly smell, but this time he had a bigger serving and a bigger bowl. “There’s plenty more in the pot if you want any more.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Oh, he’s using honorifics, little bell.” Annabel giggled and shook her head.

“Anna is just fine, Mr. Morgan.”

Arthur was still in a daze, still trying to get his baring’s and understand and wrap his head around what happened and how long he was out.

“Anna.” Her name rolled of his tongue almost too well, “I don’t really… remember much.” He started, not sure how to ask these questions that lingered in his head. “And I don’t know how to ask these questions.”

“You’ve been out for two and a half weeks.” She served herself some stew and took a seat, “You have been in and out of consciousness the whole time, but I was worried that you wouldn’t pull through.”

“How did you find me?”

“The battle was not too far from here. I just heard the gunshots and ran towards them.”

“Why did you save me?”

She hesitated, wanting to give him the answer that he wanted to hear but his tone showed that he wanted death. He was prepared to die on that mountain, and that was depressing.

“Because I’m a doctor, and that’s what I do naturally.” She took a bite of her stew, not looking at him. Morgan interjected just to cut the uncomfortable silence.

“If it’s worth anything to you, I didn’t want her to leave and run off towards those gunshots.”

“Pa, what are you implying?”

“That if you weren’t so damn tenacious and willing to help people so much, he’d be dead.” His tone was too cheerful for Annabel’s taste.

“Papa, don’t be so rude.” She pointed her fork at him and huffed.

Arthur felt so out of place, with the playful bickering that was happening in front of him and all he could do was shove the stew in his mouth and try not make things worse.

“Arthur?” he looked up at Annabel, “I would like it if you stayed a little bit longer, just until you feel like yourself.”

“How long do I have?” she smiled and it made his heart flutter

“Take as much time as you need, okay?” he nodded.

“Okay.”

* * *

 

**_THREE MONTHS LATER_ **

“Arthur! Come here and help me with this hay, please!”

Arthur looks up from his position, trying to butcher this fresh deer before Annabel had to cook dinner. He puts the knife down when he saw how much she was struggling to lift the large bale of hay to bring to the horses.

“Anna, yer gonna hurt yourself.” He grabbed the towel and wiped his hands, walking towards her. She was sweating and breathless. “I’ll get it, it’s alright.” He lifts the bale with ease and put it on his shoulder. Her relieved smile was enough for him.

“Thank you, Arthur.”

“It’s no problem.” He sighed as he placed the bale down in the small, four stall barn, “I’ll get the rest of these if you want to get to the chickens.”

“If that’s okay with you.”

“You always have a problem when you move the bales, I don’t know why you try.”

“Because you always do the heavy lifting.”

“For a reason.”

“Children! Children!” Morgan pitched in from the porch, not looking up from his daily paper, “There’s no need for bickering over who moves the hay bales.”

“Pa, just read your paper.”

“Little bell, don’t sass me.” Annabel huffed and Arthur chuckled.

“Anna, I’ll handle the bales. It’s fine.”

Anna smiled at him, eyes catching his a little too long. She bit her lip, looking away before walking off to feed the chicken.

Its times like these Arthur wished things would stand still. 

* * *

He loves when night time rolls around and Annabel starts to make dinner. The whole house smells fresh and the fireplace is blazing some nights, he and Morgan talking about the days of the Wild West, and his wife and embarrassing stories of Annabel when she was younger.

“So, my wife fought in the Civil War.”

“Hold on.” Arthur leaned forward in his chair and looked at him with a dumb smile, “Your wife fought in the Civil War. How the hell did a woman fight in the Civil War?”

“Arthur, many women fought in the Civil War.” Annabel chipped in, laughing at Arthur’s amazement.

“Did they really?” Morgan nodded.

“Oh, yes.” He coughed, then took a sip of his tea, “My wife was a Doctor during the War, but she soon got tired of how many bodies ended up coming into her tents. She ended up taking a uniform from one of the dead men and fighting in the war for many years until it ended.”

“She was the one who taught me how to shoot.” Arthur turned to her as she walked over to the couch and sat down, letting the stew simmer for a while. “She taught me how to stitch people up as well She taught me a lot, really.”

“I mean, my wife taught me how to read and write. I didn’t really do much before her.” Morgan mused on, swirling his tea.

“She sounds like she was a wonderful woman.” Arthur added, silently wishing he could have met her.

“Oh, she was.” Morgan nodded, sipping his tea once more.

Nights always went this way. They would have a great conversation, before a comfortable silence laid over them. Annabel would lay on her side on the couch, reading her books even though he never knew what she was reading. Morgan would stare at his newspaper from that day, reading it over and over until he got the next one tomorrow, and Arthur would pull out the journal that Annabel gave him – a hand crafted leather bound journal with blank pages and a beautiful carving on the front and the back and the spine of the journal – and he would draw her. Every night, he would sketch her beauty and write little notes next to it, little reminders on things she might like when he goes out or things that would be needed for the house that she would forget by the next day.

Then she would bookmark her pages with a pressed flower, place it on the coffee table and get dinner set up for the two men and herself. They would eat, and talk some more and Morgan would always try to get Arthur to open up about his past gang, even though he never wanted to talk about it. He knew Morgan was curious, but the old man pushed a lot.

Once food was eaten, and the fire place was no longer a blaze, it was time for bed. Annabel would put her father in the down stairs bedroom, tucking him in and pulling out his clothes for tomorrow. She would close the door, and take a moment to herself on the couch while Arthur took a bath and washed all the grime off of him.

He would come out from the bathroom and hour later to find her asleep on the couch, arm dangling over the edge with her thumb between the pages. She was a heavy sleeper, and she snores a little as well but to him it was peaceful.

Arthur would end up placing the pressed flower between the pages and putting it aside for her to do again tomorrow, pick her up and take her to her bed so she would actually get a night’s sleep.

Arthur would always be the last to go to bed. He would do one last round of the house, of the chicken pen and the barn before coming back inside and sleeping himself. He would lay in the same bed that he woke up in three months ago, and look out the window into the gorgeous night sky and wonder when he’ll ever get to sleep under the stars again before lulling himself into a deep slumber.

* * *

This would go on for two years. The cycle repeats every day and soon enough, Arthur becomes content. It’s steady, lovely and calm and that helps him with the nightmares he went through. Annabel would become lovelier each morning of every day for those two years, and the urges within him were starting to get hard to resist. His last love – Mary – had ruined him for love, but he feels like this could be something different. That he would be able to have her, and she would have him and things would be okay in the end. He wanted that so badly that it hurt his chest when he thinks about it, but things never seem to go according to plan for him.

And that was always the problem with him.

No matter where he went, he would always bring bad luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many ideas for this story that I can't do my homework and I hate it. Chapter three is already in the works, or at least it's on actual paper and I am trying to get them to be really long word count wise and this one was really really long (4000+ words)
> 
> I'm really proud of this chapter, and I can't wait till I get later into this story because I've put so many hours into it.
> 
> Also, I have a pinterest board for Annabel which is found here -> https://pin.it/4t43l7ehrjjayg  
> And this is what my sweet Annabel looks like -> https://i.pinimg.com/736x/48/25/f2/4825f2d3413b88ec2ecc9e5fa1eab3bc.jpg


	3. Chapter 1 - Donner Falls Pt.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that I fucked up the timeline but I also remembered that this isn't going through the exact years during the Epilogue of the game, but it's okay because I got this.

**_TWO YEARS LATER_ **

Arthur woke up before the sun, which was normal. He liked to make coffee for the other two and hunt some rabbits or deer for the day. He felt as if it was good for Annabel, because then she didn’t have to do everything for the household. Instead, she can focus on the important tasks – her patients. She got a lot more traction over the months, after running around from New Hanover all the way to Blackwater and due to that, she had more patients travel to be treated by her.

What wasn’t normal was Morgan, who is never up before Annabel.

“Morgan?” the old man looked over to him with a sad smile. He knew that smile. He and Annabel furrow their brows and curl their lips the same way where something was wrong. Only difference was Morgan was open with his problems while Annabel holds the world on her shoulders.

Like he used to.

“Arthur…” he was breathless, and his voice was shaky, “Do you mind doin’ me a favor?”

“What kind of favor?” Arthur was hesitant, knowing well enough that he wanted to go past the porch but Annabel mothers him too much for being his daughter.

“I want to watch the sunrise by the water fall, if you don’t mind.” He wheeled himself over to Arthur, looking up at him, “I’m sick and tired of being stuck in here and the porch. I miss the water and the sun and the grass.” Arthur raised a brow at him, unsure of his request. “I also want to talk to you about something.”

That caught Arthur’s attention, but it was weird for Morgan to want to talk to him. Usually, Morgan wants Arthur to talk to him.

“Annabel should be waking soon.”

“I won’t take long, I just want out of here.”

Arthur shrugged and sighed. He can’t argue with the man, and it’s not like he hasn’t do this kind of thing before. He used to take Morgan out to overlook the waterfall and smoke a cigar on certain days of the year. He couldn’t smoke in front of Annabel, she would give them hell about how it smells terrible and it gross and how an old man shouldn’t be smoking something so intense.

“Alright, well. Let’s get goin’.” Arthur takes his time to get the man out past the rocks and at the edge of the river. The was just starting to rise as they sat next to each other and listened to the water flow over the cliffs edge and the wolves howl their last calls.

“Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem.” Arthur took a pack of cigarettes and lit one for Morgan, who took it between his fingers.

There was an uncomfortable silence after that, and with every glance at the old man next to him, Arthur could see how tense he was.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I’m dying, Arthur.” Arthur exhaled smoke through his nose. He stayed silent for a moment, knowing the man just wanted to talk. All dying men wanted was to confess their sins to someone who might be able to help them atone.

Arthur; however, was a sinner just like him.

“Ya ain’t dyin’.”

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Arthur.” He chortled, then coughed, “I’m dying. I’ve been dying for a long, long time.”

Arthur was sat there, cigarette between his fingers and his eyes looking ahead of him. He couldn’t look at the man next to him, only because he couldn’t bear to think of losing this man. He let him stay in his house, live as if he was family and cared for him just like one.

And on top of it, the man next to him, with the gray hairs that stray from under his hat and the wrinkles that are under his eyes and his thick sarcasm and snarky comments, was Annabel’s world.

Morgan dying would do more than crush her.

“Just… Listen to an old man’s rambles, okay? Don’t say anything and let me muse about my life. Please…”

Arthur could only nod, and watch as the train crossed over the river.

“I…” Morgan took a shaky breath, “I was just like you. An outlaw, killing the bad and rich and giving to the poor. I wanted change. I wanted to be that change, but my gang didn’t want what I wanted.

“I left, and I ran. I ran away from them but I couldn’t run from who I was. I still stole and killed and threatened. But it truly changed when I met my sweet Mary. Mary was pure spitfire and steel. She didn’t allow people to walk over her, she didn’t want to be taken care of. She didn’t want or need a man in her life. And that _enthralled_ me. It wasn’t because I wanted to make her feel like she _needed_ me, it was because I actually _needed_ her. Her power and her grace kept me coming back for more and more and soon enough, we sealed the deal and eloped.

“We built our home merely days after getting married, that same house you live in now, with our bare hands. I thought that home and my wife was my pride and joy, but when she told me she was pregnant I could only be filled with more joy and excitement.

“But then… I hurt myself. I fell off a horse, hard and injured my back. I couldn’t feel my legs and because of that things started to go downhill. I couldn’t do the basic of chores for such a long time, and my wife had to take up all of the work around the homestead.

“After years of this, my wife grew sick and Annabel had to pick up the slack. It was extremely tough to put on such a young child like herself, but she did it was such a bright smile on her face and never complained. And I am still so grateful for what she did and does for this home and me.

“When her mother died, she was devastated. Things were such a mess, both physically and emotionally and I couldn’t do anything. I had to watch as my young daughter – who was barely a woman – drag her mother to a set of logs to be cremated.

“After that, things were quiet. She cleaned, she cooked, and she studied. She studied all of the books you see in the house over and over and when she got accepted into the Women’s college in Pennsylvania to study medicine, she was so excited. Her mother studied at that same college, and was an alumni. She wanted to fulfill something and make her mother proud, and me.

“She had a family friend come and stay to take care of me for four years while she attended college, sending letters every month with pictures of her and her classmates. I saw the pure joy in her letters about her studies that when she came home from college only to stay home and take care of me I felt like a burden.

“She was the top of her class, had opportunities everywhere, and she stayed to take care of me. She risked her career to take care of her dying father. I started to get worse, but she didn’t want to accept it, and she still doesn’t want to.

“Arthur. I’m telling you this because I’m _dying_ and it’s going to tear my daughter to _shreds_. I am asking – _begging_ you to stay with her whether it’s as a friend or as a lover, I don’t care. I just don’t want her to be alone once I am gone.” Morgan sobbed before he looked over to Arthur, tears running down his cheeks, “Please…”

“Sir…” Morgan’s closed hand reached out towards Arthur. Arthur opened his hand, even though he was hesitant to take what was in his hand.

“Take these. I told Annabel we never had rings after her mother died, but I just hid them. I didn’t want to lose the few things I had of my wife…” the chain dangled before falling into his hand. They were gold rings attached to a silver chain. Simple and skinny rings that looked like they were polished and cleaned every day. They had engravings on the inside of each of them, only four words that meant everything.

**_“It’ll always be you”_ **

“I know you love her.” Arthur looked up, embarrassed. His secret was found out, and by none other than the father of the woman he wanted. “You’ve been here for two years. You’ve danced with her when you both thought I was asleep in my chair by the fire. And the way you look at her isn’t the way a man looks at just any woman.”

“Sir –.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself. Just…” Morgan sighed, and wiped his tears away. “Take the rings and take care of her when I’m gone.” Arthur saw the pain in his eyes, “love her, comfort her, hold her I don’t care. Just don’t leave her alone.”

“Sir, please –.”

“Just promise a dying man, will ya?” Arthur sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and staring at the rings in his hand.

“I promise.”

“Thank you.” Morgan closed his eyes and breathed in deep. “Let’s go back. Annabel should be waking soon.”

The trip back was quiet, and the atmosphere was heavy. Arthur wasn’t sure what to do about this situation, or about the conversation he had just had with Morgan. The bundle of rings rested heavy in his pant pocket and he wasn’t sure what to do with them. He also wasn’t sure if his father just implied something handing him those rings as well. It was hard for Arthur to come to terms with the old man passing sometime soon. The same old man that gave him a home after all the terrible things he had gone through, letting him grow within that little cabin by the waterfall, letting him care for something he wished he had earlier in his life.

He didn’t want to think about what Annabel would feel once her father passed.

Morgan’s coughs brought him back to reality, and Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder to make sure he was okay. Morgan’s shaky hand rested on top of his and sighed.

“Mr. Morgan, you must understand… even though you lost the battle, you ended up winning the war.”

“How so?”

“You are finally free.”

* * *

 

The days turned to weeks and the weeks turned to months. The spring and summer passed by fast and soon fall over hovering over them, as the leaves started to turn yellow and fall slowly onto the grass and into the river below. The first day of fall was when he passed. He died peacefully in his sleep, holding a soft, sheer scarf that was once his wife’s.

Annabel’s screams were was scared him out of his skin. He ran into the house, still holding a knife that he was using to skin a deer and covered in blood. He had thought that someone had hurt her, but when he saw her on the ground in her father's’ bed room sobbing loudly, his heart broke.

She was clutching the other end of the scarf, huddled over her legs. Her hair wasn’t up in a braid yet and cascaded over her shoulders. She continued to sob and scream into the scarf, digging her nails into her arms so hard that she started to bleed a little.

He went to go comfort her, picking her up from the ground and bringing her to his chest but she thrashed against him, begging him to let go over her, to let rot in the room, screaming and asking him to leave her be. He never left, holding her with firm arms until she calmed down and her arms and legs ached and her throat burned.

Arthur knew this pain all too well. This burning, painful feeling that blinded the best of people.

He held her close, sitting on the floor and leaning against the bedpost. He rocked her like you would a child and tried his best to sooth the rest of her soft sobs and high pitched whines until her body turned weak.

They cremated him last that night, surrounding him in birch trees and dried flowers. She didn’t move from her spot until the grave was completely burned and turned to ash and he didn’t want to leave her alone. He watched as she waited until sun rise, before collecting the ashes that were left into a small leather pouch and placing it in a wooden box that sat on the fireplace mantle.

She still had her mother’s ashes, he had almost forgotten about that.

After that night, Annabel stayed quiet for a while. She wouldn’t speak or eat or even leave the house. He begged her to eat _something_ but he was only met with a weak glare and a small sigh. She was punishing herself for something she didn’t have control over and he hated it.

Oh, he _hated_ it.

He was tired of not being able to help her, and he was tired of not being able to hold her at night as she cried into her pillows. But he understood the pain she felt, and there was nothing he could do to ease. He just had to let it run its course until she was ready to stand up and recover.

Arthur just had to let her grieve, but as she continued to hurt, she started to do it on purpose. Getting down on herself for making small but huge steps towards becoming better. She would give up easily, which was never like her.

She didn’t read at night anymore.

He was getting annoyed, because he felt like this was all getting to extreme. It felt like she was just sulking because she could. There was no one else but Arthur and he wasn’t going to barge into her room and drag her out just to make her see some sense.

She was trying to heal, but she wasn’t doing it in the right way.

Soon enough, she started to lock herself in her room and no amount of pleas from Arthur could get her out of it. By the end of day three of this, he kicked down her door, angry and frustrated.

“Get up.”

“What in the world are you doing?”

“Get. Up.” He looked at her form. She no longer had those soft curves from eating too much stew on

certain nights, or the golden tan that she got from spending so much time working in the sun. Her eyes were dull and void of the warmth he was so used to seeing every morning. She covered herself in a thin robe, scowling at him. “Get dressed.”

“No.”

“Annabel.”

“Leave me alone.”

“I’m not leaving until you get dressed and get out of this damn room.”

“Get out.”

“Annabel, don’t even try.”

“GET OUT!” she threw a pillow at him, which he moved to the side to avoid. She started to sob into her bed and wither under her robe.

“Please, Anna. Just get something on and come outside with me.”

“I just want to stay in here.”

 

“You’ll end up putting yourself in an early grave if you do.”

“I don’t care.” Arthur groaned and rubbed his eyes. Why were women so damn difficult to deal with?

“I will drag you out of here if I have to.”

“He’s gone, Arthur. Why are you still here?” He froze in his spot and looked at her, “I mean, why did you even stay to begin with? You stayed weeks after you were healed, and I never understood why you did.”

She sniffled and sat up, looking down and away from him. “You didn’t have to stay.”

“But I did.”

“I don’t know why you did.”

“Because you and your father gave me something I wish I had years ago.” He walked over to her bed and sat down next to her, pushing her hair out of her face, “Its different then from the traditional way, but you both gave me a family. My last family went crazy trying to seek freedom in the wrong places and my parents were never really… significant in my life. Staying was something I knew I wanted.”

Things grew quiet as Annabel started to sit up and settle her hiccups and her sniffles.

“I lost my father…”

“That’s not a good enough excuse to not take care of yourself.” They sat next to each other in silence as she calmed herself a bit more. Shame burned deep in her belly after she settled herself down and started to comprehend their conversation. “You need to eat, and go out and find yourself again. You can’t lock yourself up like this. It’ll kill ya.”

“I know…”

“Then why do it?”

“Control.” He took a deep breath and rested his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hand. “I needed to feel control over something. Anything, really.”

“Death is something you can’t control…”

“I know…”

“Then why try?” she threw her arms up and huffed.

“Because I’m a doctor. Because he was my father. Because I am so afraid of never being able to save everyone or anyone in that matter.” She was frustrated, throwing her arms in the air and the way her brows furrowed in anger and sadness showed it.

“A doctor with doubt in her skills, there’s something wrong with that picture.”

“Hush, you.” She lightly slapped his shoulder, a small peak of a smile showed but soon faded as she sat and thought a little more.

“Anna.” He was firm, but gentle with his words as he sat next to her, “You’re allowed to grieve and cry and scream. You are going through a lot, but don’t hurt yourself just to feel something. It won’t do ya any good.”

She wiped some stray tears from her cheeks and sighed before cursing herself for locking herself up the way she did.

“I’m sorry.” She looked up and at Arthur, bloodshot and puffy eyes met his and he smiled at her. “I’ve been difficult lately, and you’re right about wanting to feel something.”

“You haven’t… hurt yourself in other ways, have you?”

“No, I’ve only been sulking and crying.” He let go of a relieved sigh, and ran his hand through his hair.

They sat there in silence for a while, taking comfort in each other’s company. There was a silent air around them that seemed to bring them closer both emotionally and physically. She reached for his hand, slowly but surely and placed it on top of his running her thumb over his callused knuckles.

He wasn’t sure what to do, she was still sad and he knew this kind of comfort was something she would need but he still wasn’t _sure_.

“I’m scared of doing this alone.” She was quiet, and it almost felt like she was making herself smaller.

“You don’t have to do it alone.”

Another deep sigh and she patted his hand. She sat up tall after his words and looked out of her window.

“It’s a nice day today.” She bit her lip, scared of going outside but she has to. “Why don’t we go fishing?”

“That would be nice.”

* * *

 

She forgot to mention that she was a _terrible_ fisher. Which was why she always brought home game meat.

Arthur on the other hand, already had four fish in his bucket.

“I just remembered why I don’t fish.”

“You’re being too impatient with them.” She huffed at him and reset her cast. Even though he was right about her being too impatient with the fish, she still hated fishing.

“I think the four we have is enough for dinner.” And as she said that, he reeled in a fifth one. She huffed at him again. “I hate you.”

“At least we won’t starve.”

“Shut it, Arthur.” She put her fishing poll against a rock before leaning against it. “It feels weird, you know… He’s not gonna be up on the porch once we get back from here. He’s not gonna be at the dinner table bothering both of us about weird topics we don’t know about.”

“Annabel, stop. You’re gonna hurt your head thinking like that.”

“I know but I just can’t help it.” Arthur pursed his lips as he grabbed the bucket and walked over to Annabel.

“Let’s get back to the house and fillet these fish for dinner.”

* * *

 

Her mood started to pick up every day after that. She started to pick up her old hobbies and taking care of the chickens and reading her books on the couch late at night. She started to pick up embroidery and even though she was terrible at it, she loved the techniques that it took to complete the task.

Fall turned to winter, and the river started to freeze, but not enough to stop the flow of the waterfall. He woke up late one day to the sight of her around the dining table, looking at large paper maps and small letters.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“I sent a letter to my Uncle who lives in California. I told him that my father – his brother – died.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain the large map of the United States.”

“I might go to California.” She didn’t lift her gaze as she said that. “My parents always wanted to go do the west coast, but when my father got hurt they could never go. I was thinking of going to my Uncles place in Trinidad and spread their ashes in the ocean.”

“That’s a long trip.”

“I know, but winter has just set in and leaving now would be easier when I hit the Shasta Mountains and the Grand Canyon.”

“You’re going alone?”

“I didn’t know if you wanted to come along.” She said, “And on top of it, I have to go down to Blackwater for a few days.”

“Blackwater?” she reached for a letter and handed it to him.

“I have to help a woman give birth.” He watched her walk towards the kitchen, “Do you want coffee?”

“Sure…” he sat down at the dining table and started to read the letter.

_Dear Dr. Annabel Lee Fletcher,_

_Years ago, you helped my son get over a sickness that took a lot out of him and you helped an old friend with many things medical wise. I am sending this letter to ask if you would be willing to help my wife and I birth our second child into this world. This pregnancy has been extremely difficult on her body with high amounts of pain all over and high emotional despair._

_I sent this letter as fast I could, and I am hoping this will get to you before she is due._

_If you do come, we live in a ranch East of Blackwater called Beecher’s Hope. It is about a two day ride._

_We will have some friends here to welcome our new addition to this world and I hope that won’t be a problem._

_Thanks in Advanced_

_- ~~Jo~~ Jim Milton_

Arthur sighed, “When do we leave.”

“I was hoping to leave today. It is a two day ride.”

“Alright, I’ll go pack and tack up the horses.”

“Don’t forget your coffee.”

* * *

 

The two days were grueling and cold until the hit Blackwater. She was bundled up in thick coats while Arthur was feeling alright in a simple coat and his hat.

“I’m gonna stop in town and pick up some things. Do ya need anything?” Arthur dismounted his gray mare in front of the general store.

“If they have any simple herbs, I forgot to pack some.” She looked down at him as he placed a hand on her thigh. “Remember, the homestead is East of here.”

“I’ll see ya there, don’t worry.”

She trotted the whole way down the path, until she hit ranch. It was a cute home, with crops growing out front, and a large barn tucked away against the rocky hill.

She hitched her horse near the house, removing her bag and walking up to the front door.

She knocked softly, biting her bottom lip and waiting for the door to open.

A blonde women, dressed in a white blouse and a green skirt answered the door. She could see that this woman had power behind her, and that threw Annabel off for a second

“Who are you?” Annabel cleared her throat and smiled.

“I’m Dr. Fletcher. I’m here for Jim Milton and his wife?”

“Jim Milton, huh?”

“Yes, I also have a friend with me who will be here shortly.” As she mentioned him, he rode up the path softly transitioning from a canter to a trot.

“Anna, I didn’t know which herbs ya wanted so…” he hitched his horse next to Annabel’s and dismounted, “I got all of what they had.”

“That’s okay.” She turned to the blonde woman, who looked shocked and confused and filled with too many emotions. “This is my colleague–.”

“Arthur.”

They all stood there frozen in time. Arthur looked up and removed his hat.

“Sadie?”

This is going to be a weird few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been really getting these chapters out because spring break is upon me and I finally don't have homework that needs to be worried about constantly, that and I really don't have a muse for anything else right now. I really love my Annabel.


	4. Chapter 2 - Beecher's Hope Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this took so long... I cut my finger making a salad... I had to get stitches...

Annabel felt awkward standing in the dining area, pretending to be occupied with her supplies as Arthur caught up with old friends. She didn’t want to tear him from his friends, the ones who were so thrilled to see him. There was hugs given and snarky remarks thrown around even though there were laughs that echoed through the high ceilings.

She felt out of place, knowing well enough that they were from the good parts of his past. The part that he didn’t ever want to forget, and the parts that he wished he had more memories with them. She didn’t want to interject, in fact she tried to sneak out to her horse just to get some fresh air, but Arthur managed to catch her before she could.

“Oh, no you don’t.” he grabbed her by the shoulders and lightly guided her towards his old gang members.

“Arthur, please. You know how I am in social situations.” She weakly protested, knowing well enough that he wasn’t going to let her run away from this.

“They’re old friends so I doubt they’ll bite.” She huffed and let him guide her towards the group, who all smiled at her.

God, this was worse they when she was at old family reunions. She wasn’t to bury herself in the backyard.

“To think that our little Arthur would find a girl, and a pretty one at that.” The blonde – Sadie if she remembered correctly – teased, “Sadie Adler,” she extended her hand for Annabel to shake, which she did, “Sadie is fine with me.” Her smile put Annabel in a calmer mood, but her shoulders were still stiff and tense, “That one over there is Charles, Scarface over there is John and the drunken fool is Uncle.” She looked at each one that Sadie pointed at, and really hoped that she would remember.

“Abigail is sleeping in the room, and my son – Jack – is in his room reading.”

“I’m Annabel, but most call me Anna.”

“And you’re the doctor?” Sadie asked, curious in something else then if Annabel was really the doctor.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” she hoped that the comment didn’t seem too forced, because it was.

Annabel still felt extremely out of place in the room, all of there were playful in their banter towards each other and she felt suffocated. She had to get out of this situation or she just might explode.

She waved her hand towards the group, “I hate to be a bother, but I would like to check on the mother to be.” She held her hands clasped together in front of her, respectful and reserved giving Arthur an apologetic glance before John started to stand up.

“Right, I’ll show –.” Sadie waved at him and got up faster.

“Sit yer ass down, John. I’ll show her.” She walked over to Annabel, placing a hand on her back, “You’ve been a nag the whole damn week, and you need to relax.” John let out a sigh as he settled in his seat again. She noticed his shoulders slump down as he leaned into the cushion a little more.

“Thank you, Sadie.” Sadie started to walk towards some rooms and Annabel followed in haste.

“He’s been hyping the whole thing since Charles and I arrived. He’s too high strung when it comes to his wife.”

“Most men are, from my experience. Husbands are protective of their wives and even more so if they’re pregnant.” Annabel looked behind her, towards Arthur with a worried look. She would have to talk to him later about this whole situation.

“Not your first rodeo, I take it?” Sadie noticed that Annabel was looking at Arthur, and smiled.

“Not in the slightest.” She lingered on Arthurs form before looking at Sadie with a soft smile. “On average, I help birth a dozen babies a year.”

Sadie knocked on the door that lead to the master bedroom, and Annabel her an annoyed groan.

“If it’s John, you need to go away.” Annabel smiled, and laughed softly.

“Abigail, the doctor is here.” A relieved sigh was heard from the other side of the door.

“Come in.” Sadie opened the door, letting Annabel enter first. “You must be Dr. Fletcher.”

“Yes, I’m here to assist in your pregnancy.” Annabel held herself high, shoulders back, head up and a soft and loving smile on her lips. “I just wanted to introduce myself and see where the baby is at and how you’re feeling.”

“Well, I feel heavily pregnant and my feet really hurt, but why do you need to check the baby?” Abigail struggled to sit up, but managed to do it with Annabel’s help.

“I want to make sure that the baby is head first and not feet first.” Annabel started to roll up her sleeves and sat herself on the edge of the queen sized bed. “Do you mind if I press on your stomach?” Abigail shook her head.

“Good ahead.” Neither Annabel nor Abigail notice Sadie leave the room until she came over to the other side of the bed to place a gentle hand on Abigail’s shoulder. Annabel pressed around on Abigail’s swollen stomach, feeling for certain things within the womb.

“So far so good. The baby seems to be in position and should be due any day now.” Abigail let out a relieved groan and slumped into the pillows.

“Thank god.” Annabel smiled and gave a breathy laugh as she unrolled her sleeves.

“The hell did John do ta ya?” They all turned their heads towards the doorway, where Arthur leaned, “I don’t think there’s one baby in there.” He chuckled, and Abigail sat up fast, causing Annabel to reach out to help her.

“Arthur?” he smiled, as he noticed the range of emotions run over her face. He knew he was going to get a good lecture from her, but right now all he could do was walk towards her and stand next to her bed.

“Hello, Abigail.” Abigail threw off the blanket and tried to get onto her swollen feet, much to Annabel’s dismay.

“Abigail, I don’t recommend getting up so fast and not without help.” Annabel chimed in, but she knew that it was just drowned out by Abigail’s soft sobs. She wobbled as she got up and hugged Arthur.

“We thought you were dead! Charles went back for your body, but you weren’t there when he went. We all thought that the Pinkerton’s picked up your body.”

“Easy, Abigail. Everythin’s fine.” He tried his best to soothe the crying, pregnant woman, but with little luck.

“How did you find us?” he shrugged and looked over at Annabel, who was frantically trying to get Abigail back on the bed.

“I didn’t. She did.” Annabel wasn’t even paying attention to the little gleam in his eye as he pointed towards her.

“Abigail, I haven’t finished my check up and I need you to get back to bed before I can let you walk around.” Abigail eventually released Arthur and waddled back to her bed with some help from Annabel.

“John, Charles and I are gonna go hunting.”

“No problem, we’ll be here.” She shooed him out of the room after she got Abigail in bed, “Just don’t get shot at anymore. I’m tired of pulling bullets out of you.” He chuckled and tipped his hat, as Sadie walked in. Annabel peered from the doorway, watching him leave with John through the front door.

“And you say he’s not sweet on you.” Annabel turned and looked at both Sadie and Abigail, who had large smiles on their faces.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Annabel walked away from the doorway, shaking her head in annoyance. Abigail’s laugh radiated through Annabel, and she knew they weren’t just going to drop it.

“Did you not see the little gleam in his eyes when he pointed to you?”

“No, because I was worrying about you hurting yourself by getting up so fast.” She let out an exasperated sigh and threw her hands up, “Can I finish my check up before you two bombard me with any more questions about my relations with Arthur?” Abigail threw up her hand.

“Can I ask one thing?”

“Yes, Abigail?”

“Can I walk around outside after?”

* * *

 

With the help of Sadie and Annabel, Abigail was able to walk slowly into the living room even as she complained about how swollen her feet were. Annabel and Sadie laughed lightly as she continued to curse her husband, and how she was never having any more kids.

“Now I remember why I stayed in bed.” She grumbled as they made it out of the hallway and into the living room.

“We can go back to the room?” Sadie chimed in only to receive a glare from Abigail.

“I’ll be fine once we get to my chair.” They took their time helping Abigail walk to the wooden rocking chair that sat close to the fireplace, something that she assumed was bought or made just for Abigail and the new addition.

“Let us know if you get to warm, okay?” Abigail nodded as Sadie left to get her a glass of water.

“So…” Sadie started from the kitchen, a mischievous tone in her voice, “You and Arthur, huh?” Annabel groaned and slumped onto the couch.

“It’s not that special.” She interjected, wishing they would drop the whole conversation all together. “I don’t know why it’s such a huge deal.”

“For many reasons.” Abigail added, and Sadie came in with her glass of water.

“He’s sweet on you.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Annabel sighed and rubbed her face. That was a total lie. She knew he was sweet on her, but she also knew herself and the fact that she wasn’t ready for that sort of commitment, since her father’s passing.

She didn’t mind him being sweet on her though.

“We saw the way he looked at you. That man was never good at being subtle about certain feelings.”

“Sadie’s not wrong.” Abigail sipped her water, “Romance was never his strong suit and even though women were always curious about him, he had other priorities thrown onto his shoulders.”

“He’s been with me for three or so years, he seems just fine with…” she waved her hands in the air, “things.” They both look at her with surprise.

“Three years?”

“I saved him from that mountain three years ago.” She chuckled at the memory, “He’s a huge baby with injuries, you know. Does nothing but complain about it.”

“Sounds about right.” Sadie chuckled, placing a hand on Annabel’s shoulder, “All I can say is thank you. For keeping him alive.”

“He’s hard to keep alive, you know.” They all laugh, and Annabel listens to Sadie talk about the old days when they all ran with a gang. Arthur would never talk about those day, and Annabel never pushed because she knew how memories can hurt just too much.

They continue to talk to Annabel about those days on the run all over West Elizabeth and New Hanover, all the crazy adventures and missions that they did together. She noticed that Sadie focused on the positive aspects of their lives before this, and deep down Annabel knew they all had demons that they wanted to keep within them.

Laughter echoed through the living room as Arthur walked in with a pronghorn on his shoulder and a turkey in hand. John and Charles followed suit, rabbits and waterfowl all tied together.

“Hopefully this will be enough.” The girls’ laughter started to disperse once the men filed in and dropped off the hunted game in the kitchen.

“You know I’m not cooking!” Abigail called out and Annabel stifled a laugh. “I’m pregnant and actually comfortable for once, I’m not movin’.”

“I ain’t cookin’ either. Did enough of that when we still rode with Pearson.” Sadie grumbled, and Annabel stood up from her spot, rolling up her sleeves.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll cook if it’s not a problem.” She didn’t really wait for a response from anyone as she walked to the kitchen and shooed everyone out of it. She noticed Arthur’s eyes on her as she leaned against the counter and let go of a deep sigh.

Annabel took a deep, steady breath and got to work skinning the animals.

And deep down, she prayed that the baby would come soon so she could leave this place as soon as possible.

* * *

 

Dinner came and went for Annabel, who zoned out for most of it. She knew they were talking to her, and she did her best to talk to them but for the most part she was disinterested. She sat there, slowly eating her food and watching how Arthur acted around his old friends. His smiles made her heart tighten and her stomach do flips and soon enough she found herself not able to eat anymore. She retired early, much to everyone’s dismay and even Sadie came into the kitchen to check up on her.

Annabel forced herself to smile, but even she knew that Sadie wasn’t buying it. Sadie pushed it a little bit, but Annabel merely shook her head and weakly tried to sooth Sadie’s curiosity and worry. Sadie lingered as Annabel started to get to the dishes and finish cleaning up the kitchen.

“Hey, Arthur.” Sadie pestered quietly, laying a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her from his journal, pencil in his mouth and his face still flushed from the few glasses of whiskey from dinner. “What’s up with Annabel?”

“She alright?” he closed his journal, turning towards Sadie with full attention.

“She seems, I don’t know.” She shrugged as she walked around to sit next to him, “Sad about something.” Arthur’s sigh felt heavy in his chest.

“Her father died a few months back and it’s been hard on her lately.”

“She’s been strong around us, but it’s taking a lot out of her huh.”

“She wasn’t expectin’ all of us to know each other.”

“I don’t think anyone was expecting you to even be alive, let alone here.” They both chuckled at that comment. Silence fell over them for a brief moment before Arthur let out a sigh.

“I feel like a damn fool.”  He rubs his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sadie, I –.”

“You’ve been sweet on her.” He chuckled, not looking over at her.

“That obvious, huh.” Sadie’s smile was enough of an answer. “Who else knows?”

“Abigail, but I’m not sure about the boys.” She tucked her bangs behind her ear, “And I’m pretty sure Annabel knows about it too. I would do something about it soon.”

“What am I supposed to do?” he groaned in frustration, “She just lost her father, so I highly doubt she’s ready to do anything.” He looked over at her, still slightly flushed from the alcohol but he was starting to sober up. “Besides, I’m too old and I highly doubt I’m her first choice.” Sadie laughed, almost in a mocking tone.

“You are old, but you’ve been with her, living with her for three year, getting to know her for three years. I highly doubt you’re _not_ her first choice.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I know I’m right.” She lightly hit his shoulder with a smirk, “Make a move, before you lose your chance. I’m gonna go see if she needs any help with dishes.”

Sadie let after that, leaving him with his thoughts and worries.

* * *

 

As night started to fall and everyone started to settle in and get ready for bed, Annabel found herself awake at the kitchen table, reading her maps with candle light. She took her pen across the map, marking the trails that would end up leading her to Trinidad in California.

The night was finally quiet, minus the loud snoring coming from Uncle in the Attic. Crickets and cicadas chirped and clicked and the coyote’s high-pitched howls and yips echoed through the night sky and into the quiet house through the cracked window.

Annabel found herself staring out the window, leaning back in the creaky wooden chair an appreciating the full moon that lit up the flat valley and the rolling hills. Something tugged at her, whispering to her to go for a night right and enjoy the environment around her and soon enough she was blowing out the candles and tip toeing past both Sadie and Charles who were sleeping heavily in the living room.

Her boots slipped on with ease, and the door was quiet as it opened and closed with an easy click of the knob. The cold air was refreshing even as it caused the hair on her arms and neck to stand up and a harsh shiver to overcome her body.

She adjusted to the wind quickly as she walked down the porch stairs and out to the tree where Flynn was grazing next to Arthur’s mare. She pulled out the band that help her hair in a low braid and combed her fingers through it as she clucked for Flynn to come to her.

He was untacked, with a makeshift rope halter over his head for easy leading. She guessed that Arthur must have untacked him before everyone went to bed. She snatched his reins that were laid out across his saddle on the hitching post.

Flynn walked his way over to Annabel, who clucked at him again. He swished his tail from side to side, flicking away the flies that irritated his skin. He nickered and bobbed his head up and down as she held up the bridal in one hand and the bit in the other. He took the bit without a fight and she fitted the bridal over his ears and fixing the buckles as Flynn adjusted and ground his teeth on the bit for a moment. She patted his neck, feeling a thin film of dirt on her hand as she does and started to lead him towards the path.

“Where ya goin’?” Annabel yelped and spun around with a hand on her chest.

Arthur stood not too far from her, leaning up against three tree that stood tall in front of the homestead.

“Jesus, Arthur.” She let go of a sigh and slouched forward. “Don’t go scaring me like that.”

“Did you not see me?” he smirked from under his hat, smoking a cigarette and exhaling the smoke through his nose, “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know where I’m going. I was just gonna ride out and clear my mind.”

“Mind if I join ya?” he took another puff of his cigarette, before throwing it on the ground and grinding it with his foot.

“I don’t mind. I just –…” she watched as he took the reins from the hitching post and put it on his mare. “I need to be away from all of this.”

“Too much for ya?” there was humor mixed in his concerned question. Annabel gave him a weak smile, even if it was forced.

“They all know you, and they tried to get to know me and well… I’m not good with people. I mean I used to be a social butterfly in college, but after my second year I only focused on my studies.

“It’s okay. They like ya, so you don’t have to worry too much.” He fixed the bridal onto his mare, her dapple gray coat shining under the moonlight. Annabel huffed at his comment and jumped on her horse, belly first before throwing her leg over.

“You don’t have to come with me.” She gave him a somber look, hoping that he would let her go alone.

“The company wouldn’t hurt, especially since I doubt you know your way around these parts.”

“Yeah I guess you’re right.” She pushed Flynn into a canter, with Arthur riding not to far behind her.

Her hair fluttered in the wind, long curls dancing and waving around behind her. The sound of rushing wind and Flynn’s hooves on dry dirt filled her ears. The rush of cold air made her shiver, and she cursed herself for not bringing her jacket.

She started to reminisce to the time when she got Flynn, the little colt with an attitude. Her father got him as a graduation present eight years ago. She remembered the intense training that she went through and did with the colt, who was as stubborn as a mule. She remembered her father’s encouragements with her training when he bucked her off the first time. His wise words and soothing tone helped her train the stubborn colt to actually work with her.

Annabel started to tear up from the memories that played so vividly in her mind. The cold air started to make everything tingle and soon enough she couldn’t take the painful bubbling in her chest and the burning in her stomach.

She spurred her horse into a gallop right when Arthur called out to her. Flynn, being the thoroughbred he was, instantly pick up his pace, bucking his back legs a little in excitement and leaving a large dust trail behind them.

Arthur called for her again, spurring his own horse to follow but she kept pushing him, not paying attention to Arthur’s worried calls and his mares’ loud nickers and hooves. She split off the path, not caring on the destination and hoping that soon enough she’ll be in a place where she could scream and let out her emotions.

She continued to push Flynn, letting her tears slip out and push past her temples due to the wind. Her sobs cracked through the air, and Arthur’s pleas fading in the distance.

She leaned back, pulling on the reins harshly and suddenly, Flynn’s’ back legs tucking under him as he comes to a skidding stop. She dismounted quickly, running over to the cliffs edge right when Arthur rode up at a trot, anger and concern washing over his face.

“Annabel, what the hell –!” his words were cut off by her screams, and he watched as she threw her head back and letting out all the stress and pain she’s been holding onto for the last couple months. In those screams, he knew she needed this.

She needed to let it all out.

She stopped after a few minutes, bending over herself completely breathless and sweaty and teary eyed. She heaved air into her lungs, praying that no one else heard her cries other than Arthur and even then she wished she was alone.

Annabel stood up straight after a moment and looked up at the moon, the bright blue light shining down and casting shadows across the ground below.

She lets go of a deep sigh and sits down on the edge of the cliff, letting her feet swing and dangle. “I thought you were better at riding, Arthur.” She mocked lightly, starting to feel too tired for anything.

“You can’t just go runnin’ off like that.” She laughed, throwing her head back to look at him.

“I feel like that’s an excuse.”

“It’s not.” He grumbles, looking at her as he flicks a match on the bottom of his boot to light another cigarette. She was trying to manage her loose curls and small strands that stuck to her forehead.

Silence fell over them as he sat down next to her, taking long puffs of his cigarette and knocking the ash over the edge. He caught her looking up at the stars, with one eye closed and a finger drawing lines from point to point. He noticed her eyes were still puffy and red, but he also noticed the small gold flecks near your pupil under the harsh blue moon. Tear streaks stained her cheeks and her temples and as a soft breeze blew past them and her hair fluttered in the wind, he noticed that scar that laid on the right side of her neck, an inch away from her throat.

 The wind changed directions and came from behind them, moving her hair from over her shoulders and covering her face. She let out a small laugh, trying to tuck her hair behind her ears while the wind still rushed past them.

He reaches out; not sure of what he was doing or why he was doing it, and tucks a stray strand behind her ear. “You should wear your hair like that more often.” Her laughter is light, but the look in her eyes holds nothing but exhaustion.

“Why?” his hand lingers longer than he meant, and he curses himself for it. She starts to pull her hair over her shoulder, combing her fingers through and getting ready to braid it back up.

“You look nice.” His statement brings a blush onto her cheeks, and she hopes that it’s too dark to see it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with it down in the years we’ve known each other.” He continues to look at her, and he admires the way strands stick to her face still, the length of her lashes as they fluttered over her eyes, and the way her lips part slightly as trees rustle in the background.

“You know I keep it up because if I don’t, it gets stuck on everything.” Her little giggles and slight curve of her lips make his heart flutter and he can’t remember the last time he felt like this.

Was it Mary, before she hurt him? Calling off the engagement because he refused to change for her. It took him too long to get over that woman, even when he was at her beck and call those few times.

He didn’t really think when he leaned in, placing a small kiss on the corner of her lips. He didn’t really think at all when she looked up slightly, mouth open to say something only for him to lean in again. Her lips were soft compared to his chapped ones. She didn’t pull away from any of it and he took that as a sign that this was okay.

That she was okay with this.

With him.

He moved closer, wanting to deepen the kiss and hold her close but she moved away from him. She turned her head away from him and he was close enough to see her blush on her cheeks.

“Did I… Did I do something wrong.” She looked over at him, face full of confusion and shock.

“No!” she covered her mouth and looked away, grazing her fingers over her lips, “No, I just wasn’t expecting that. I…” she bit her lip, and a part of her unsure what to say.

So she didn’t say anything.

She jumped up too fast, almost causing her to fall back down, and walked back to Flynn who was grazing on a berry bush by the tree.

“Anna?” she waved him off, started mumbling to herself about how crazy she way. “Anna, wait. Please.”

“Arthur, I –…” she huffs and groans, leaning her head on her horses shoulder. “There’s too much going on, there’s no way I can do –” She circled her arms around, gesturing to them both, “– this.”

“Well, don’t just walk away from me like that.”

“Oh what am I supposed to do, lay down and take it?”

“What? No! I –.”

“I can’t be in a relationship right now. Not when I have things _I_ need to take care of. Not when I have _myself_ to take care of.”

“I get it, I’m sorry.” He reaches out for her, but she pulls away from his touch.

“I’m sorry too… God, Arthur. I want to but after everything that has happened I just… can’t. Not yet…”

“Annabel…”

“Don’t… Just, please.”

He watched as she jumped on her horse and rode off back to Beecher’s hope without him.

* * *

 

Her ride back to the homestead was somber and lonesome, and a part of her wanted to go back to him just to tell him that she wants to do this, that she wants to try.

But even she knew they wouldn’t work. Not right now.

Not yet.

The ride was long and boring and filled with too many thoughts of that kiss. That god forsaken kiss that shouldn’t have happened.

Or should have happened, but at a later date.

“God dammit… dammit… dammit… dammit…” she let her horse ride at a canter, hoping that she didn’t hurt Arthur too much.

“I’m a damn idiot…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope that this was okay. I feel like Arthur was way too out of character and I am still trying my best to get stuff out of the way and make the plot move. I'm excited for the next chapter, because I have the dumbest(?) idea ever and I love it.  
> Thank you guys for all of the kudos! I really appreciate it.


	5. Chapter 3 - Beecher's Hope Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was fucking long and painful but this is important to the plot so bear with me if this chapter is boring as hell.

The morning after was rougher than expected.

Annabel fell asleep over her maps and papers, her back bent in an uncomfortable position and her neck sore from leaning on her arms weirdly. She stretched her legs out before sitting up and looking around with bleary eyes.

Sadie and Charles were still asleep, and there was no sign of John or Abigail so she assumed that they were asleep as well. She heard some small noises from the kitchen and she assumed that it might be Arthur, but when a young boy came out from the corner she let go of a sigh she didn’t realize that she was holding.

“Good morning.” She said, voice quiet and raspy. She cleared her throat before smiling at him. “You must be Jack. I’m Annabel. I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself yesterday.” He shrugged, not extremely interested in the conversation, but he sat at the table nonetheless.

“It’s alright. I assumed that it was all adult stuff anyways.” Annabel hummed and watched him eat his oatmeal, looking at the maps, papers and an astronomy book scattered around the table.

“Sorry, I can move them.” She got up slowly, trying to gather all of them up but he waved at her sympathetically.

“It’s not a problem.” His eyes were fixated on the Astronomy book that had dried flowers sticking out from all ends. “You like astronomy?” Annabel perked up a little at the slight attention that Jack was giving despite her best effort not to seem so excited.

“My mother studied it, said that if she didn’t go to war she would have become an Astronomy teacher.” She laughed lightly at the memory of her mother always talking about the stars and planets. “You can borrow it, if you’d like. I’m sure I’ll be here for a few days.”

“Is that okay?”

“I wouldn’t be offering if it wasn’t.” she picked up the book and handed it to him, and he was almost hesitant to take it. “Just don’t fold the pages. It was my mothers.” He smiled, taking the book from her hand and studied the cover for a long moment before opening it to the first page. “She took a lot of notes in her books, so you might see a lot of chicken scratch in it.”

“That’s fine.” He was so fixated on the words of just the introduction, and the little notes in her mother’s scribble like writing. Annabel smiled, and started to fold up her maps and her letters from her uncle before getting up and going outside.

She walked out barefooted, and the sun was just starting to rise. The sky was gorgeous, reds and oranges that faded into the blue sky where the clouds started to thin out. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and letting out a heavy sigh before walking over to her saddle bags to put her papers and maps away.

Something moved in her peripheral, and her head whipped over to what moved, ready for her fight or flight response to kick in.

It was Arthur.

He was sleeping against a tree, his hat tilted down and one leg propped up. His arms were crossed against his chest, his journal tucked between his arms and chest and his pencil tucked behind his ear. His mare – Morrighan – was close by and grazing on the tall, dead grass.

Annabel watched him for a moment, biting her lip before looking away. She hoped that things wouldn’t be different between them, hoping that maybe he would just forgive and forget.

But hope was all she could do.

She finished tucking her maps away, and pulled out a ribbon for her hair, pulling her long locks back into a ponytail and wrapping it in a bun. She grabbed her boots that laid, muddy and gross next to the front door and slipped them on and tying them tight before walking down the stairs and over to the barn where she put Flynn for the night.

The sun continued to rise as she let out Flynn out to pasture with Morrighan. He nickered and trotted over to where she was; tail up high in excitement even as she pinned her ears and nipped at him.

She leaned against the barn doorway and hummed, watching Flynn settle a bit to start grazing on the tall grasses as well.

She still was beating herself up, for the way she left him last night to her wave of emotions she can’t seem to control anymore. She was so calm and collected and ready for anything and now with her father gone, she can’t even keep up with simple tasks like sleeping.

Three years… she would have thought that falling for a man like that for three years would be easier but it wasn’t. They aged together for three years, they nagged each other for three years, they _grew_ together for three years but all of that washed down that waterfall and burned away with her father.

All that progress, and for what?

Shitty emotions, terrible headaches, and a man who she would do anything for.

She hit the back of her head against the wooden doorway, only to curse from the pain. “What did I expect…” she mumbled, watching as Arthur stretched from his position against the tree and adjusted his hat. He rubbed his face with one hand as he supported himself standing up with the other. His yawn was large and wide, nose scrunched up like he was snarling and baring a bit of teeth.

He slightly wobbled before straightening out and walking over to the fire that was at the side of the house. She knew that even when he woke up earlier then her, he was never much of a morning person. Arthur required too much coffee in the morning to function, and she told him that, insisting that he had tea instead but the man would merely nod at her and tell her, hell no.

She felt an urge to talk to him, to resolve what happened last night. To talk to him about what was going through her head but even she couldn’t figure out what was going through her head. She remembered the times she went to him when her father was asleep in his chair by the fire and simply talk with him about her worries and fears and nightmares. She remembered the times that he would soothe them, and tell her they were okay to have but never to let them control her.

She knew that she was letting her worries and fears and nightmares control her in that moment.

Annabel _really_ wanted to talk to Arthur, but as soon as her courage to walk down the few steps and lightly tip toe towards the fire where he started to boil some water for his normal cup of coffee, the door behind her opened.

Sadie stretched her arms over her head and yawned before trying to smooth down her stray hairs and rub the sleep from her eyes. Annabel noticed how beautiful Sadie was, her strawberry blonde hair shining in the soft sunlight and her freckles that glittered her cheeks. For a moment, Annabel was surprised that this woman was a ruthless bounty hunter who didn’t give mercy to anyone she was hunting.

“Mornin’, Anna.” Her voiced was still laced with slumber, but she looked ready for the day. “Did you sleep alright?” Anna shrugged, and noticed that Sadie was still dressed in her dress from yesterday, little wrinkles here and there from where she laid imprinted in the skirt and blouse.

Annabel stole a glance at Arthur as he poured himself a cup and looked off into the distance and enjoyed the morning sun warm his body. “I slept at the table, so I’m pretty sore…”

“Why’d you sleep at the damn table?” she heard Sadie’s voice crack during her question, and she couldn’t help but find it cute though her voice was more on the demanding side.

“Ah… it’s a long story.”

“Well, then let’s talk.” Annabel chuckled before smiling over at her.

“You’re trying to play matchmaker, I know you are.” Sadie shrugged, not really trying to deny anything she was doing. “Fine, I’ll tell you but not right here where people might walk in on it.” Sadie chuckled as Annabel bounced down the stairs and slowly walked towards the barn.

The fire that burned at the side of the barn was still blazing from the wood that Arthur must of put in the night before, and she added another log just in case and stoked it for a moment. The crackling and popping was all too familiar to those cold nights back at him where she sang with Arthur and her father, and the talks about her time at college even though she knew that Arthur had no clue what she was going on about.

She stared at the fire for a moment too long, and Sadie placed a hand on her shoulder. With Sadie closer to her, she noticed just how short she was. Sadie was a good five foot six and poor Annabel stood at a whopping five foot two.

It wasn’t that hard to be taller than Annabel, she was sure Abigail was taller than her even by a few inches.

“I’m fine… just thinking.”

“You think a lot?”

“I do. Maybe too much.” Sadie’s chocolate eyes bore into her causing Annabel to shift under her gaze. “Arthur kissed me last night.”

“Did he now…” Annabel rolled her eyes at her playful tone.

“Don’t. It’s not cute or funny.” Annabel pointed, giving a little huff. “Not to me at least.”

“So…” Sadie leaned against the wooded poll that held up the cover, “What happened that lead to him _kissing_ you?” Annabel groaned, and sat down in the dirt by the fireplace.

“I rode off just to get some air and peace of mind and he came along, much to my dismay.” Annabel grumbled, remembering the events of last night. She replayed them over and over, wondering about the different paths that she could have taken and imagining the outcomes of each one. “I lost my father, I’ve been extremely irritable and shut down, I just needed some time to myself and I said he could come along because he is someone who helped me just as much as I helped him.”

“And…?” Sadie pushed, brow raised in question as Annabel gave her a soft glare.

“I don’t really know where I went but I rode far from here to a cliff and I screamed until I felt better.” Annabel looked down at her feet, face hot with embarrassment and shame. “We… we relaxed under the night sky, talking a little bit. He complimented me…” _he moved her hair out of her face, his rough hands soft and cool –_ she shook her head and huffed again. “Then he kissed me, and while I liked it I have a lot of things that I need to do.”

“You’re grieving, I understand.”

“I feel like an idiot, because I _liked_ it? But I know myself and I know the human body enough to know what happens to a person who grieves.” Sadie sighs.

“You can’t pull medical terminology and other educated mumbo jumbo into this.” She listened to Sadie shuffle her feet, before Annabel felt a warm body next to her. “No amount of education can prepare you for the grieving process or love. You may know what goes on inside, but it’s not definite.” Annabel laughed, her voice soft and breathy.

“You sure have a way with words for a bounty hunter.” Sadie pushed her shoulder, just a little too hard.

“Don’t test me, Anna.” They laughed, and Annabel realized why Arthur had such great bonds with these people.

“Thank you, Sadie.”

“You take your time, and Arthur will follow. He as for this long, there’s no way he’ll leave right as it gets good.”

“Let’s hope not.”

They sat in silence, enjoying the crackling of the fire, and the soft gallops of the horses that were let out in the small pasture to the left of them. Annabel started to realize how good these people were, and she truly wondered what it was like to run with them before the fall of their family.

She wondered what Arthur was like before she met him, and she was tempted to ask, she was _ready_ to ask Sadie but a loud scream that came from the homestead caused them to both bolt up from their spots and run.

Annabel thought the worst, a scream that loud and that pained wasn’t normal. Sadie already had a gun in her hand, cocked and ready and Arthur was already at the door, kicking it in and aiming it at whatever or whoever was the threat.

“Put that gun down, she’s in labor!” Annabel pushed her way past Sadie and Arthur, who looked at her in confusion.

“How do ya know?”

“John is in the room. Do you really think she would be screaming if someone came in to threaten them if John was there.” She snatched her bags that sat by the door, ready for whatever was to come their way and dragged them to the room. “Sadie boil some water and grab some towels and rags. Arthur I’m gonna need you and Charles to take John out of the room if need be. Abigail is already frantic enough, him being there might make it worse.”

“Is this normal?”

“From my experiences,” she took a moment to look at him, standing tall despite her heavy bags. She saw his blue eyes, soft but still filled with worry and confusion. She only hoped her confidence was enough to ease most of their worries. “This isn’t normal.” Arthur’s nod was stiff, and she knew he had so many questions for her but she turned from him and continued to the master bedroom.

“I’m coming in!” Annabel was assertive as she pushed the door open with her back, taking a deep breath before it all come in front of her.

Abigail was on her side, breathing in quick, short breathes with John next to her, holding her and talking calmly to her. Blood soaked through her night dress and onto the sheets and quilt underneath and Annabel immediately knew this was urgent.

“Holy shit…” Annabel turned to Arthur, who only stared at the blood soaked sheets.

“John, are you good to stay?” Annabel was already getting her gloves on, and pulling out some of her other tools for cutting the umbilical cord. She didn’t get an immediate answer from him, which caused her to snap at him, “John!”

“I’m good to stay.” He was calm, staring at his wife who was in immense pain on the bed.

“Okay.” She looked at Arthur and Charles who had just walked over to inspect the screaming. “Get out of here and go see if Sadie needs help.” She demanded, walking to the door with her hands up and in front of her. When Arthur didn’t move, she simple started to shut the door and pushing him out in the process. “Go.”

“What’s happening?” John ask, his voice slightly cracking but Annabel was the only one that seemed to notice that.

“I’m assuming a hemorrhage within her uterine walls. It might be the placenta, but I’m not entirely sure.” She took another deep breathe as Abigail screamed and groaned in pain, “I’ve never had this happen before, but I’ll figure it out.” She walked over to Abigail and placed a soft hand on her hip. “Alright, Abigail… I’m gonna check for anything abnormal so I’m gonna touch you. Are you okay with that?”

Abigail’s weak nod was enough for Annabel to get to work, feeling around her belly and making sure the baby wasn’t breeched in the womb. When she didn’t feel like the baby was bottom first, she moved down to her hips then her back. Heat radiated from the areas even through the thin night dress and medical gloves.

“So far, so good…” Annabel mumbled, pressing softly around the spine and focusing. “Was it like this with your first child?”

“No…” Abigail groaned, “He was easy…”

“Well, I hate to be bearer of bad news, but this one won’t be.” She pulled away and looked at Abigail, “Is it possible for you to lay on your back?” Abigail tried her best to move onto her back, but from what Annabel could see and hear, Abigail wasn’t able to do so.

Sadie ran in, holding a pot of hot water with thick oven mitts and towels thrown over her arms. “Where do you want it?”

“Dresser.” She pointed, then put her focus back on Abigail. “Alright, sweetheart. I’m gonna have you on your hands and knees. It’s most likely gonna be the most comfortable. It should release the pressure off your back and hips a bit.”

“ _Should_?” Abigail seethed, but still tried her best to move to the position she recommended.

Annabel looked over at Sadie, “Do you want to stay and help?”

“Only if it’s okay.” Abigail screamed again.

“I don’t think it matters at this point.” Annabel was at the edge of the bed, helping Abigail onto her hands and knees while supporting her belly. “You ready, Abigail?”

“No.”

“Well, the baby is so when you feel ready, you push.” Abigail nodded, groaning and panting from the pain.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

 

The labor was long, going on for hours but Arthur noticed that John never left that room unless the women demanding something from the kitchen or wash room. Arthur felt proud blooming in his chest, watching at how much John had changed in the last few years. Going from doing his own thing to taking care of his family.

Arthur felt as if John was trying to make up for being gone for a year.

By the time silence came, it was night. The moon was high up in the dark blue sky and the coyote’s yips and howls echoed through the valley.

Then, as soon as the silence came, it left and was replaced with the wails of an infant. The tension was no longer there and a collective sigh spread across the room. There was a small, lively chatter between Charles and Uncle which ended with Uncle being scolded about something, Arthur wasn’t paying attention.

Sadie walked out first, sweaty and exhausted but she had a happy and fulfilled look on her face. “I need a damn drink.” She huffed, as Annabel came out of the room next.

Sweat dripped from her brow and blood covered the front of her dress, but her expression was calm and happy with a soft little smirk covering the exhaustion that was there.

“It’s a girl.” Annabel giggled softly as everyone cheered and laughed off their worries. “The bleeding was from the placenta, so we’ll need to stay for a few more days just to make sure no infections come on.” Arthur nodded, not caring that he had to stay longer.

“Can we go see them?” Uncle’s curious voice caught her attention and she shook her head.

“I think it’s best that we leave them be with their baby until morning. They are both exhausted and excited and it’s important for them to bond with the baby for the first few hours after birth.” Uncle groaned but didn’t pester any more after that as Annabel went to wash herself off and change her dress.

She heard a party go on outside the washroom as she changed and cleaned herself off without having to make a bath though she knew she would have to have one soon enough.

She stared are herself in the mirror, trying her best to fix the fly away strands of hair and huffing when she couldn’t.

“Always had to be the feminine one.” She voiced what her mother would always tell her. Her mother, who was built tall and strong and kept her hair short, would always playfully tease her daughter, who was small and dainty and would refuse and cry when her mother came at her with scissors to try and trim her long, thick mane. “I guess I’m turning into you more than you know, momma… Rescuing a dirty outlaw and having him for company.” She huffed, “I am truly a foolish woman, huh, momma…”

Time passed, and Annabel found herself relaxing at the dining table, watching as Arthur kept losing at dominos to Sadie. Laughter burst into the air as the gramophone played as soft melody in the background. Some songs were sung, but Arthur was so _focused_ on winning the pot against Sadie. Annabel sighed, watching from a distance and dazing off.

A hand grazed her shoulder, and she looked up to see Charles look down at her, two bottles of whiskey in his hand. “You alright?” She wasn’t really expecting him to come up and talk to you, to be honest, he was a quiet one and she didn’t know how to interact with him if it seemed he didn’t want to talk.

She nodded and sighed. “Yeah, deliveries have always taken a lot out of me.” He took a seat next to her, handing her the bottle of liquor but she refused.

“Emotionally?” he placed the bottle next to him, sipping at his already opened bottle.

“No…” she leaned back in the old wooden chair, listening to it croak under her weight. “Physically. The woman giving birth goes through a lot of work but I have to make sure things go well and because of that, my mind goes into over drive and over thinks just because something bad happens. If something bad happened I would have to do and think later so I think when I know I have a moment to do so.” She wonders about the alcohol she was offered, and thinks about taking the bottle just to get her nerves to relax. “Besides, I never really enjoyed assisting in births. I’d rather help with mass sickness and war wounds.”

“Why’s that?” he took another sip, and listened to her carefully while watching Sadie and Arthur play another round of dominos.

“Creating life and bringing it into the world is important, but _saving_ a life is just as important and satisfying if not more so to me.” Charles laughed, his voice deep and causing something in her to relax her shoulders and body.

“I guess you have a good point there.” She smiled, chuckling quietly as they watched Arthur grow frustrated.

“Did Arthur ever tell you how we met?” Charles perked up, curiosity taking over his not so sober senses.

“No.” Charles thought for a moment. “He only mentioned you when he came back from a mission up in Ambarino, when we were still with the gang.”

“Well, he and I met briefly when I was helping the Wapiti Indians, before Cornwall’s men came in to drill on their lands. And Arthur –,” she pointed at him, who looked ready to flip that wooden table, “–stole medicine for them. If he didn’t, they would have died.”

“You seem to not give yourself much credit.”

“I usually don’t. I didn’t learn my skills just to boast about my education or charge people tons of money for a simple procedure. I didn’t go to college to earn respect from others, either. I went to find myself as well as help people in a ruthless world.”

They sat quietly, enjoying the quiet presence of each other despite Arthurs annoyed groans as he lost more money to Sadie.

“Dammit, Woman!”

“Pay up, Arthur!” he did, begrudgingly.

“He’s a good man.” Annabel sighed and Charles nodded, chuckling at the interaction.

“That he is.”

* * *

 

The noise begins to die down and everyone let their slumber take over, but Annabel was too antsy for sleep. She still sat at the table, with an unopened bottle of whiskey in front of her. Charles left it for her, saying it was for emergencies.

She relished in the silence, taking deep breaths to soothe her anxiety that raged in her head. Annabel was so caught up in her thoughts and worries that she didn’t hear Arthur come up from behind her.

“You alright?” that hand on her shoulder caused her to jump out of her skin, which caused Arthur to pull his hand away fast.

“Yeah.” She coughed, rubbing her eyes in hopes that it would removes her worried look. “I’m thinking about stepping outside for some air before I go sleep.”

“Ya gonna ride off again.” She could see him smile, but his tone showed a different emotion and the tension of his jaw was something he only did when he was worried or on edge.

“I’ll try not to.” She took a moment before standing up, her back popping a little as she stretched her arms up above her head. “Come sit with me.” She offered, and as soon as she said it she regretted it.

His nod was enough for her, as she walked out through the front door with Arthur trailing behind her, and she wished she could ride away again. She _wished_ she could be alone and away from everyone and everything once more while her emotions were running rampant.

Annabel stood on the edge of the stairs, wind cold and sharp against her cheeks as Arthur slumped down on the set of stairs before taking a cigarette between his lips.

“Want one?” he struck a match on the heel of his boot, covering the small flame with his hand as he lit it.

“You know how I feel about them.” She quipped, scrunching her nose at the smell of cigarette smoke. He chuckled as he shook out the flame and threw it into the dirt.

“You looked stressed, and it usually helps me with my stress.” Arthur was startling calm, despite her disgruntled behavior.

“I’m fine.” She was quiet and quick to respond, sitting down next to him and trying to steal some of his heat as the wind blew through her.

Silence fell over them like a thick blanket and the nature around them kept their thoughts a bay. Coyote yips and some calls from some birds overhead mixed well with the rustling of leaves and tall grass.

Annabel wanted to say something, about anything just to get his attention but her tongue wouldn’t work and her throat was dry. The man beside her was calm, softly puffing his cigarette as he watched out in the distance at nothing in particular. She didn’t really try to stop herself from staring at him, trying to ready his face for any kind of emotion or reaction.

His brows were relaxed and his stress lines weren’t so prominent from his scowls. His smile lines were deep and his crow’s feet folded as he squinted towards something in the distance. He was so… Passive and serene. His cheeks were still a tinge pink from the alcohol he consumed and the heat of the homestead.

“Why you starin’?” she didn’t grow embarrassed by his question, and continued to look his way. He glanced at her, blue eyes were gentle and tired but still so focused.

“I’m trying to see what you’re thinking.”

“Oh, you read minds now?” he chuckled and she smiled, biting her bottom lip.

“I’m still trying to learn the skill, but I’ll master it at some point.”

Silence took over again, but Annabel wanted to talk, to tell him what was on her mind.

To apologize.

But she couldn’t find her voice over the whistling of the wind and the rustling of the tree leaves. Maybe it was a good thing she didn’t say anything, and maybe she should just enjoy their position on the stairs for a moment longer.

“I’m sorry.” She looked up at him, almost unsure it was him who said those two words.

“For what?”

“For last night…” he took one last drag from his cigarette before snuffing it out in the dirt. He didn’t say anything else, and she was okay with that. He was a gruff, hard man who was vulnerable for a moment and she had hurt him.

“I’m sorry, too…” she muttered out, looking past the trees and tall grass.

They sat like that for a while, comforted by the silence of the night and the warmth of each other.

Annabel retired first, yawning wide and placing a hand on his should for support.

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

She walked off before he can say anything and when he turned to call out to her, she was already inside and once again leaving him with thoughts.

* * *

 

Days passed without a care as Abigail started to settle and heal from her intense labor while John worked hard around the ranch with help from Arthur and Charles. They started to build a room that was off from the dining room for the new addition, much to Abigail’s excitement.

Things were going well, things were quiet and soon enough she and Arthur could go home.

Annabel enjoyed going out after days of being cooped up in the house, watching and hovering over the mother. Even Abigail was getting tired of the hovering.

She and Sadie took several trips down to Blackwater, buying a few things for the baby’s room and Abigail. Annabel found some books stashed in the corner of the general store and snatched them for Jack before Sadie came in bellowing at her to hurry up.

“What are those for?” Sadie raised a brow as Annabel climbed into the wagon.

“Jack. He’s reading my astronomy book. Thought I’d get him his own copy.” Sadie snorted.

“Much to John’s dismay.”

“Like it matters at this point.”

The trip back to the homestead was easy, Sadie talking about her husband and her little homestead and her plans for her future. Annabel listen intently, tilting her head and smiling, interrupting Sadie to ask some questions or make comments.

The day started to end and the sun was hiding behind the hills as Sadie and Annabel rode up towards the men who were finishing up the building of the room.

“Where do you want the wagon?” Sadie yelled out, pulling on the reins to halt the shires. Annabel took a moment to settle herself as John and Arthur walked up to the wagon to take over.

Arthur held a hand out for Annabel, who gladly took it. “Thanks.” She was feeling better, her emotions not so overrun and rampant in her mind.

“More books, huh?” he pointed to the large novels in her arms, a smile gracing his lips.

“No, they’re for Jack. I thought he would like them.” She started to walk off once Arthur was called away by Charles, but she noticed his hesitation to walk away and the slight jerkiness in his stride as he bellows at uncle who was ‘trying’ to help.

Annabel walked into the house, watching Abigail move in the rocking the baby girl in the wooden rocking chair and Jack was laying on the couch, reading aloud to his mother from the astronomy book.

“How is she?” she ask Abigail quietly, trying to not wake or disturb the infant.

“She’s great. Just finished feeding her.” Abigail hummed, moving little hairs on the baby’s head. “My little Florence…”

Annabel gave a breathy chuckle before turning her attention towards Jack. He was so absorbed in the book, nearing the last few chapters of the book. He was still ready out loud, his voice soft and slow as he stuttered over a few words before he attempted to pronounce them correctly.

Annabel took a seat next to him, the cushion sinking under her weight and pulling Jack out of his slight trance caused from the book.

“Hey, so I got you something.” She placed the books next to him. “You seemed interested in anything, so I grabbed you some things from my trip into Blackwater. They surprisingly had some other astronomy books that I know are different from what I let you borrow.” His face lit up with excitement as he bookmarked his current page to set down and look at the two books next to him.

“Are you sure?” he looked up at her, then to Abigail who had a sweet smile on her face.

“I’m very sure. Thought you might want some new reading material.”

“What do you say, Jack?” Abigail encouraged, and Jack looked up with joy all over his face.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Good ahead and finish the first book before starting the next one; otherwise, you won’t finish it.”

With that she was up from the couch, packing up her medical supplies and her journal and getting them ready for tomorrow morning. She and Arthur were finally going home, and she was excited to be able to sleep in her bed again and start planning her trip once more.

Annabel was sure that Arthur didn’t want her to go, but she knew he wouldn’t stop her. What she was uncertain of is if he would _join_ her. Would this man join her on her journey all the way west towards California just to spread her parents’ ashes in a place they dreamt and longed for in their early days? Or would he stay and watch over the house that her parents built from the skin off their backs?

She was unsure, but she hoped that he would come with her.

Annabel was lost in thought as she carried her bags out towards Flynn, who was all tacked up and ready for the morning. The sun was just setting over the hills, blinding her as she walked out and over to lift her bags.

It was too bright for her to notice the three men to the right over her, standing so close with their revolvers in hand and disgusting smiles on their lips.

“Hello, miss.” She jumped at the gruff voice, turning around towards them and squinting because of the glaring sun.

“Hello.” She hesitated in her greeting, and stayed right next to her horses flank. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, we’re lookin’ for Arthur Morgan.” She stiffened and she _prayed_ they didn’t notice it.

“I’m sorry?”

“Arthur Morgan. We saw him in Blackwater a few days ago and we just wanted to catch up with an old friend.” She licked her lips, unsure or anything anymore.

“How do you know him?” the front man shrugged.

“ _We_ don’t know him, but our gang leader does.” He holstered his revolver, but the other two had their revolvers still in hand. The front man wasn’t someone with a friendly face. A large scar was going across his nose and over his eye, a thick black beard and bright green eyes. He was tall, and mysterious and she didn’t like it.

“I don’t know an Arthur Morgan.” She tried to back pedal but it was too late for that.

“Then why did you ask how we know him.” Annabel cursed herself, and she desperately wanted to get out of this situation.

She should have packed her damn Lancaster.

They stood in heavy silence, with Annabel deathly afraid to move in case she got shot. She waited and wondered if something would happen, if Arthur would walk out or really anyone would walk out and see this and shoot them all. She wanted to be saved even though she hated being the damsel in distress.

“Look, honey. It’s a simple question.” His strides were long and it didn’t take much for him to stand close to her, pressing her so hard against her horse that Flynn moved his back legs to accommodate the pressure. “Where is Arthur Morgan?” She stayed silent, her eyes flicking from side to side, trying to find an escape route, just like her mother taught her.

“I don’t know.” His hand raised up, grabbing her throat and throwing her to the dirt.

“Where is he!?” he screamed, and she was sure that caught the attention of the men were still on the side of the house.

The front door opened, Sadie walking out with her revolver at the ready with Charles following close behind her in actions, a rifle bumped up against his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Sadie Adler and Charles Smith. Figures you’d be here.” The man shrugged, turning away from Annabel and towards the front door. “Where’s Arthur Morgan.”

“Dead.”

“ _Bullshit_.” He pulled his revolver out and pointed it at Annabel, “Tell me where he is, or she dies.”

Before Sadie or Charles could answer there were two loud pops that echoed across the valley, catching the unknown man off guard.

He turned in time to watch his two partners to drop, blood gushing from their skulls. Arthur and John came around the corner of the house, revolvers drawn and ready.

“Four against one doesn’t seem so fair.” The unknown man chuckled, before throwing his revolver down and putting his hands up. “I know when to stop.”

“Get out of here.” Arthur growled, eyes filled with hatred and a murderous intent she’s never seen before.

“There he is! Do you know how hard it was to find you? When Micah Bell got the letter that you were alive, he sent me to take care of you.”

“Micah’s still alive?” Arthur quietly questioned, but didn’t really want an answer to it.

“He really don’t like you.”

“I don’t give a shit what that _rat_ likes.” She noticed his grip on the gun tightened as he seethed. “You need to _leave._ ”

“Alright, alright. I know when to take my leave.” He whistled, his horse cantering over to him. “Mr. Bell will be _ecstatic_ to hear that you’re alive.”

Annabel watched as he mounted and rode off, leaving his two dead partners in the dirt a few yards away. She groaned, and laid down completely on the ground and covering her face with her arms.

“Annabel! You alright?” she waved her arms at Arthur’s calls of worry. She knew he was next to her in seconds, worry replacing the venom and anger in his body.

“I’m fine, just shaken up.” She took a few deep breaths, before sitting up. “I hate adrenaline rushes…”

She looked over to the two bodies that laid crumpled in the dirt, as the yelling and arguments happened behind her. She knew her father had enemies when he was running away from his past, and she assumed that Arthur had the same.

But he never mentioned them, and that was worrisome.

“Who’s Micah Bell?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping that after this chapter, things are gonna pick up. I had to change my chapter line up and take two out because I shoved a bunch of stuff together and cut out some unnecessary crap because of it.
> 
> Hopefully in the next chapter, were gonna start their travels.
> 
> I don't know yet.
> 
> Anyways, thanks so much for the love! I really appreciate it!


	6. Chapter 4 - Donner Falls Pt.3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of things have been going on in my life and I feel like things are crushing me, so chapters might be a little more sparse.   
> I hope this chapter is okay, it just felt like such a filler chapter and everything seems so out of place and the characters aren't in character but I'm glad that this chapter is done because I can finally get into the true meat of the story.

Annabel sat in silence on the couch, boring holes into her palms and trying not to scream at the people in front of her. There was no silence in her head and there was definitely no silence around her as Arthur paced and seethed about the current situation.

“Ya didn’t think to mention that _Micah Bell_ is still alive?” his snarls caused shivers to run down her spine, but she took a deep breath to keep her nerves at bay. “We’ve been here for a god damn _week._ ”

“Arthur, calm down.” Sadie wasn’t taking his verbal abuse, and she seemed to never take it in the past. She threw the same amount of anger in her warning that Arthur was radiating.

“How the hell do I calm down after I find out the man that tore our gang apart is still _alive_?” he continued to pace, stomping his feet on the creaky floor boards.

Annabel didn’t want to listen to it anymore, to his yelling and his anger. She winced every time he yelled and growled at both Sadie and Charles. John had taken Abigail and their daughter into the bedroom, and she was grateful that he did that, or Abigail might have burst from the amount of noise.

“Arthur.” Annabel warned softly, but he didn’t notice her calling out to him. She stood slowly, keeping her distance from him to keep herself from being yelled at and verbally abused like Sadie and Charles.

“That man is a _rat_.” He growled, the stress causing his shoulders to tense and his fists to clench and unclench. He continued to pace around the dining table. His growls and grumble from his frustration was getting to Annabel, causing her to hesitate calling out to him again and scolding him.

He’s never been this angry before, she was completely unsure of how to handle the situation.

“Arthur, we thought you were dead. What did you want us to do?” Charles asked him, his voice and energy was calmer then both Sadie’s and Arthur’s. His hands were out in front of him, trying to calm him and show that no one was a threat but Arthur could only see red because of the thought of a man that Annabel didn’t know.

That question had struck a nerve in Arthur and he stopped pacing, gripping one of the dining room tables. “Well, I ain’t _dead_.”

“ _Arthur_.” Annabel was a bit firmer this time, scowling at him and pursing her lips at his anger.

“Stay out of it, Annabel.”

“It’s hard to stay out of it when I have no idea what’s going on and I’m listening to you act like a fool!” Sadie walked over to Annabel, placing a hand on her forearm.

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m used to complicated, I dealt with him for three years.” Annabel scoffed, holding her scowl with Arthur. “Can someone just tell me who Micah Bell is?”

“He’s a _snake_.” Arthur seethed, roughly taking a seat at the table. “That man makes me looks like a damn saint.”

“Annabel,” Sadie was softer with her, but she knew that the woman in front of her wanted to put Arthur in the ground. “It’s a convoluted story full of the bad things we all did to survive.” Her voice was soft, trying to keep Arthur from hearing her. “Micah was someone who did bad things. Terrible things and he still does terrible things.”

“So why are you so damn worked up about it? About him?” Annabel felt her fear bubble up in her throat once she saw Arthur’s deep blue’s stare through her.

She saw him try to talk, try to think of the right words to say before he dropped his eyes and deeply sighed. She noticed the several emotions that swirled through his eyes and the tension form his shoulders dropped a bit, but he was still on edge.

Silence fell over them all, but Annabel knew from the air around them that no one was going to be able to sleep easy tonight.

Sadie settled down on the couch, rubbing her eyes a little and giving a frustrated sigh. Charles stepped outside, most likely wanting to some kind of fresh air.

Annabel sat at the small chair next to the fireplace and watched as the embers started to die out and a cold breeze came through the chimney. She watched and thought about nothing and everything at once, zoning out but not falling asleep. She couldn’t sleep as she watched the embers grow cold and she didn’t flinch at the abrupt wood scraping on wood as Arthur moved from his spot at the table.

She watched the ash flutter onto the floor and onto the small, woolen carpet that was laid out under the table. She felt her eyes droop and her head tilt to the side and while she tried her best to stay awake, sleep overtook her body.

She dreamt of her mother, and the fresh smell of apple pie and a hearty stew filled the house. It was a familiar memory and she knew what day this was. What dream this was.

She was small and dainty, barely filling into the handmade dress her mother got from a patient. Her mother stood tall over her, a warm and inviting smile tugging at her lips. She saw her lips move, say something sweet to her like she always did but all she could think of was the count down in her head to when her father’s screams of pain echoed into the canyon and over the sound of the waterfall.

Annabel watched as her mother ran out the front door, and she felt herself follow but as soon as she ran through that door, she was awake.

Her eyes were bleary and her throat was dry but she didn’t wake up with a start. Her heart was calm but her mind was foggy from the memory or dream or nightmare… she wasn’t sure.

Coffee filled her nose, and nausea hit her hard causing her to gag a little.

The home stead was quiet, and no longer so cold with the fire place filled with a bright flickering flame. A blanket covered her legs, and she didn’t really remember covering herself with a blanket the night before.

There was a sound of chopping wood coming from the window behind her, and a small tune was being whistled between each chop.

Her stomach gurgled and she remembered that she didn’t eat the night before, and as she was getting up from her chair with creaky knees and an achy neck, Arthur walked through the door with Sadie behind him

Annabel noticed her change of attire. The black and dirty pants, the clean white button up blouse, tight suspenders and a weathered leather hat that looked clean and well taken care of. She had her holsters strapped to her hips and thighs with a Carbine on her back.

“Thanks, Sadie. I know you got a lot goin’ on so I appreciate ya doin’ this.” Annabel tilted her head at what Arthur was saying but she couldn’t really pinpoint what the subject was.

Sadie merely nodded with a cheeky smile on her lips, which only caused Arthur to grumble at her. “I’m gonna go talk to Charles before we see you off.” She walked back through the front door, and Annabel rubbed her eyes.

“Mornin’…” she mumbled, barely looking Arthur’s way.

Annabel shuffled her way past him, not noticing his change of attire or the different hat or the simple clean smell he had from a long needed bath. He mumbled a morning to her, his voice quiet and gruff. He turned towards her, boots scuffing against the floor, “Ya ready to head home?”

She nodded, throwing on her boots. “I’ve been ready for a while. I miss my bed.” He chuckles, but she didn’t really react to it.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, stands in front of her for a few seconds before tipping his head and walking off through the back door. She watched, raising a brow as he walks off, wondering why he was so worked up.

“Wonder what that was about.” Annabel shrugged her shoulders, and turned towards Abigail who had a sleeping infant in her arm.

“He’s being unusually weird this morning.” Annabel addressed, “He and Sadie were talking quietly as they walked inside the house, and I feel like I’m missing something.”

“I’m missing something called sleep.” Abigail placed a free hand on Annabel’s shoulder, “You are fantastic and it’s wonderful to know that Arthur is alive and well taken care of, but with a new baby, a grouchy husband, a useless drunk and four extra people in my house is just too much for me.” Annabel laughed, knowing very well Abigail had good intentions with her snarky words.

“I don’t blame you.” She slipped on her coat, “Once the four of us leave, hopefully things will be easier.”

“I hope so. John and I can finally focus on this family of ours.”

“It’s a great family. All of you.” She chuckled, thinking about all the moments between their makeshift family. “Quite the dynamic.”

“You’re a part of it now, you know.”

“Not sure if I would fit in well.” Abigail waved her hand at her.

“Nonsense, Arthur will just have to bring you around more. You’re quite the woman, especially if you can be around Arthur for more than a few hours.”

Annabel’s laugh was light, but also bittersweet. A part of her was ready to walk out that door and ride home, but she also wanted to stay and get to know these people that Arthur called family for so long. He had just found them, now he has to leave them once more.

She wasn’t sure if she can pull that away from him.

“Go. We’ll always be here.” Abigail bounced the baby in her arms softly, humming to her lowly. “We still have somethings to pay off I’m sure.”

“Send any letters to Valentine under my name. I try to pick them up every week.”

“Thank you, Annabel.”

“You don’t need to thank me for anything.”

“I don’t mean for being here.” Abigail placed a kiss on her child head. “Take care of Arthur. He tends to forget about himself.”

“I will.” Annabel pursed her lips, “I guess, I will see you again soon.”

“You will, no doubt about it.”

Abigail left her with a smile that reminded her of her mother’s, so warm and inviting and full of love. As Abigail walked away, Annabel wiped a tear from falling and turned to door.

The sun was high in the sky, and she assumed that it was almost noon. Her horse was tacked up and ready and stood next to Arthur’s mare, digging and stomping his hoof and throwing his head up with loud snorts.

She finally had a good look at Arthur.

Different hat, different jacket, different _everything_.

He had a different saddle on his mare, a whole slew of guns attached to it as well as a different saddle bag. He no longer wore that thin coat he came with, instead it was replaced with tan leather jacket, a bandana around his neck and covering the area of skin where he unbuttoned his white dress shirt. He no longer had her father’s old brown hat and instead had on black hat, rope wrapped around the band.

She was unsure of how she felt about it, all she knew was her stomach was in knots.

“Ya ready to go?” he called out to her, and all she could do was nod.

“What’s all of… this?” she pointed to his saddle. Than his jacket, than his hat.

“Ah… it’s my old stuff.”

Annabel stayed quiet after that, tightening her saddles cinch on Flynn.

They all said their goodbyes, their farewells and once again Annabel felt… different. As she hugged Sadie, she couldn’t help but feel doubt even when they full heartedly accepted her into their group.

Their family.

She pulled herself up onto Flynn, adjusting her butt into the seat and patting his neck. Arthur said his farewells, stopping at Sadie and Charles for a little longer than she wanted. But she said nothing, as he hugged Sadie and patted Charles on the shoulder.  

And soon enough, they were off, riding their horses hard to get any kind of restlessness out of them before their long trek home.

* * *

 

Nightfall brought on a different kind of anxiety in Annabel.

Even as the sun set and the blue sky turned dark, and there was a calmness that settled over them, she couldn’t help but look over her shoulder every so often to make sure no one was following them.

For the first time in a long time, she was paranoid.

“Annabel.” She snapped her head over to Arthur. She had halted her horse, turning him around to stare down the path they had just climbed. “You okay?”

“Yeah…” she looked back down the path, before scoffing at herself and spurring Flynn to a trot to catch up to Arthur.

“No one’s followin’ us.” He was soft with his voice, no long around people who have only ever known his rough voice and tough demeanor. “I would know.”

“I know, Arthur.” She looked down at the horn of her saddle, playing with the fraying leather a little. “I’m just… Paranoid.”

“Why? They aren’t gonna follow us.”

“What makes you so sure?” there was no anger in her voice, but fear. Fear for her life and for his. “You gonna just shoot them, and they’ll think, ‘oh, yes this man killed a shit ton of our people we should stop attacking him!’ Men aren’t that smart, Arthur.”

“You need to take a breath.” He reached over and pulled on one of her reins, causing Flynn to move his head towards Arthur, “Things are _fine_. They found me in Blackwater, sure, but for that one man to regroup, get more men, and follow us in just a day sounds impossible.”

Annabel wanted to rebuttal her worries, because she knows that being paranoid has always saved her.

_Almost_ always saved her.

She turned her face away from him, ashamed that of her own worries and her own range of emotions.

He released her rein, and spurred his mare forward, “C’mon, we’re almost to Valentine. Let’s get some food before we continue up the hill.”

She said nothing the rest of the ride, following like a lost puppy as they came up the path that lead into Valentine. He ushered her to ride next to him, not behind him, mumbling about crazy people in this town.

It was a quaint little town, filled with the basic things that anyone would need when they came in for supplies. While she wasn’t the only doctor in town, most of the people were coming to her once the resident doctor raised the prices of his medicines.

Arthur had already hitched Morrighan close to the saloon, and she followed suit with sluggish movements.

“Did ya forget to eat this morning?”

“The coffee made me nauseous.”

“Sorry about that, darlin’.” She shivered at the simple word of endearment, taking his hand to balance herself as she slid out of her saddle.

“Not your fault. I didn’t eat anything before I went to bed, so that might have been the problem.”

The saloon was bustling and loud with the bartender yelling out finished orders and a few girls serving some plates of food to some half sober men at round tables. Alcohol burned her nose, but the smell of food made her stomach ache and gurgle.

“Ya wanna drink?”

“Gin. Just gin.” He chuckled.

“Never been a whiskey girl.”

She found a table place by the window, overlooking the muddy pathways and some stars if she leaned into the window a little. The loud sounds of men’s laughter, women’s giggles and the charming tune from the piano made her feel at ease, no longer in the open night where anyone could do anything.

Arthur placed a glass of gin in front of her as he took his seat. “I ordered some food, hopefully once we get it we can head up the hill.”

“Yeah.” Nothing else was said between them, so she took sips of her drink and letting the drink burn her throat and warm her belly.

She enjoyed the chatter around her, and the soft and easy presence of Arthur as he leaned in his chair, swirling his drink.

“I miss him.”

“I know you do.”

“I hate these emotions.” Arthur chuckled.

“I don’t mind them as long I get to keep my head.” She snorted, not expecting that sort of come back from him.

“Oh, please Arthur. Like I would ever do that.”

“I can name plenty of times.” She finished her drink, then ordered another.

“I’m sure you can, but that means I can name plenty of times that _you_ were a huge child because of an injury.”

“Oh, don’t play that game, darlin’.” He leaned forward, finishing his drink and ordered another himself.

“Oh, or what, _darlin’_?” their drinks were placed in front of them, and Annabel noticed how close she leaned in and how close Arthur was leaned in.

He cleared his throat, leaning back again and taking his new glass. She bit her lip, finding herself slightly embarrassed and downed her drink like a shot. The burn caused her to make a face and shiver from the intense taste and burn.

“Careful, Anna. You should eat before you drink anymore.” He warned, as he too chugged half of his drink.

Silence overtook them again as their food arrived. Warm, fresh rabbit stew with a few rolls on the side of the bowl was so appealing and as she ate her food, she couldn’t help but feel better. And a little bit tipsy.

“You know, I can’t help but feel terribly calm around you even though all I want to do is scream.” He didn’t really react to her comment, but he had heard her. “Losing my parents was hard, it’s still really hard but I know everything I need to know to get through life just fine.”

“Anna, eat your food.”

“Come with me.” She put her fork down, and wiped her face with the cloth napkin, “Come with me to Trinidad.”

“Annabel, why do you want to even go that far?”

“To give my parents something they were never able to have.” Arthur knew what he next words were gonna be before they left her lips, and he quietly worded them as she spoke softly.

“Freedom.”

* * *

 

They finished their dinners, had a few more drinks to loosen their nerves before they prepare to ride back home.

“I’ll be back.” He walked out of the back, most likely needing to take a leak but she didn’t really want to think too much about it.

She sat in her chair, waiting for him to come back before she ended up leaving without him. The stars were bright that night, with soft clouds rolling over the town with the wind.

“Sweet little thing, all by yourself.” She whipped her head around, watching as a drunkard walked towards her, or stumbled over to her. “How do I get you to join me tonight?”

“I am not interested in any company tonight.” She was short, emotionless, and frustrated. She hated with this happened.

“But I’m interested in yer company.” He bumped into the table, moving it harshly and almost falling down in the process. “And I’m sure ye can’t resist this.”

“I’m sure I can, quite easily.” He grumbled, wanting to say something more but she simple ignored him.

“Yer nothing but a worthless tease.” He stumbled off, cursing about how women were missing out or something along those lines. She took a deep breath, those two words striking something horribly deep in her.

_Worthless tease…_

_Sweet words, soft kisses, and feather light touches. She hated it, so she pushed it away. Pushed him away. “Don’t be such a tease…”_

“Anna?” She looked up slowly, looking at Arthur’s face a little more intently than she should have. “Ya ready to go?” her mouth was dry and causing her tongue to stick to the roof of her mouth.

So she nodded, getting up slowly and regretting her choices to drink alcohol this late at night.

Arthur helped her onto her horse once he saw how she wobbled out through the saloon doors, chuckling a little by how she yawned and stretched her body once she was in the saddle.

“You can rest once we get home.”

“I hope so…”

The followed the path up with the sun rising to the East over the snow capped mountains. The house was slightly hidden in the trees next to the falls, and she could feel her excitement bubble in her at the sight of her home.

She was also excited to sleep in her bed again.

She spurred Flynn to a trot then a canter, his nostrils flared and slight huffs escaped him as he climbed the hill.

“It feels good to be home.” She was loose with the reins, enjoying the fresh smell of river water and the evergreens that surrounded them. Arthur caught up to her, his mare doing an extended trot just to keep up with her.

“It’ll be nice to sleep in a bed again.” She laughed, letting go of the reins completely and lets her arms relax against her thighs.

Arthur looked over at her, head tilted back and the buttons of her blouse were undone, showing off her collarbone and neck. He saw that scar again, slightly puckered and pink compared to her golden skin. Strands of her hair stuck to her face as her eyes fluttered.

She enjoyed the breeze, and he felt his chest tighten at the sight of her.

He hoped that things will be able to go back to normal.

It didn’t take long to come up along the house, hitching the horses and appreciating the view even if they were only gone for a week.

“Took you guys long enough?” Annabel snapped her head over, knowing that voice all too well. “I’ve been here for six hours, what happened?”

“We got some food in Valentine.” Arthur seemed unfazed by her presence on the porch as he unpacked a few things from his horse.

“Sadie?” Annabel stood frozen, holding onto the reins a little too tightly out of nervousness. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I heard you’re goin’ on a trip.” She lit a cigarette, much to Annabel’s dismay, “Arthur asked if I can watch the homestead while you’re on your travels.”

Annabel stood there processing her words, “Travels…?” she never got a true answer from him when she had told him and asked him. She just thought he was gonna stay behind.

She had to take a moment, leaning against her horse and thinking about the little moments when she told him and asked him to come with her. He didn’t hint at anything, not that she can remember and it was weird to think that he wanted to go.

“Anna, you’re zonin’ out.” She shushed him, placing a hand up.

“I’m thinking.” He chuckled.

“You wanted to leave right after we got back home, right?” she nodded with slight hesitation, “Well, I guess we should pack up then.”

Annabel watched as he walked up the stairs and into the house, most likely packing the things they will need for the first few days.

“You know,” Annabel climbed the stairs, walking close to Sadie. “Arthur was unsure of this trip, but he saw that you needed to do this.”

“I would have left without him, and he knows that.”

“He would have followed.” Sadie exhaled smoke through her nose, and Annabel sighed.

“I know. And I would have loved it if he did.” Annabel placed a hand on her shoulder, “Thank you, Sadie. This means a lot to me.”

“Just take care of that bastard in there.”

“I will try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think, my brain is kinda killing me so I might take my time with the other chapters that I have planned. I need to write out a simple summaries for the things I've got planned because right now I have about another 29 fucking chapters and I only have like, five ideas so.  
> Wish me luck.


	7. Chapter 5 - Dublin, TX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I'm gonna keep it simple  
> Also me: 5000+ WORDS. USELESS DETAILS. HORRIBLE WRITING

She wasn’t prepared for this trip.

Or, well she wasn’t mentally prepared for this trip. Physically and materially, she knew exactly what to expect and what she needed, but mentally, she wasn’t ready for leaving the only home she’s ever known.

Annabel threw her bag on the back of Flynn, who swished his tail in protest to weight. His snort and stomp of his hoof caused her to chuckle and pat his shoulder, “You better get used to it, bud. We gotta long trip ahead of us.”

Arthur came out from the barn, his saddle and blanket in his arms with the reins thrown over the seat. He looked content with himself, calm from a good night’s sleep in a real bed. Annabel, however, did not get the best amount of sleep before this trip.

Her chest ached and her stomach churned with anxiety as she walked back towards the house for her other saddlebags. She heard Arthur huff as he threw the saddle onto his mare, who didn’t protest as he tightened the cinch.

She pushed open the front door, looking around the quiet homestead with somber thoughts and wary sighs. She had to admit that she was a bit hesitant to leave it behind for a little while, especially with someone who she only met a week ago but Arthur trusted her. If Arthur trusted her, she would have to swallow her worries and trust her as well.

She saw Sadie on the couch, reading one of the books from the coffee table with an amused smile, “How do you read this stuff?”

“Easy. I spent four years in college learning what those words mean.” Annabel’s laugh was light, and she was happy to see the little smile on Sadie’s face as she read the book. “Most of those books are my mother’s, so they’re older and a little more worn out.”

“They seem to be in okay condition.”

“I read them a lot.” Annabel started to walk up the stairs and towards her room for her last two saddle bags. She took in the way the stairs croaked under her weight and the way the smooth wooden rail felt under her finger tips.

Oh, how she was going to miss this place.

She snatched her bags before she changed her mind about leaving. Arthur walked in, calling for her before talking with Sadie.

“Thanks for watching the place. It means a lot.”

“It’s not a problem, just stay safe out there.” Sadie placed the book back on the table and stretched as she stood. “I heard the West is getting more and more civilized.”

“It shouldn’t be too bad. Annabel has the maps so hopefully we won’t run through too many towns and cities.”

Annabel walked down with her bags thrown over her shoulders. Her somber look was enough for Arthur to know how she was feeling about the whole thing. This was her home, and the outside world can be terrifying for most.

“Ya ready?” he asked, walking over to offer a hand.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She huffed, handing him the bag from her shoulder with an achy groan.

She took her time leaving the home, grabbing her satchel from the kitchen table and the Lancaster from the door.

Sadie walked them out and watched them ride off from the porch. Annabel looked over her shoulder as they cantered off, and watched Sadie and the house disappear behind the trees and hills.

There was no turning back now.

* * *

 

_We just left home, and I won’t lie I am terrified. I’ve only ever gone as far as Armadillo, and going any farther than that was mostly a dream for me. Having someone ride with me, especially Arthur, is kind of amazing. I’m still surprised that he even came along on this trip, but I’m glad he did though I won’t admit that to him._

_The weather is still pretty cold, but the rabbits are still extremely active no matter the weather. Hopefully we’ll come up on Dublin soon. I wouldn’t mind a warm bath and a soft bed to sleep in for a night._

“Anna?” she looked up from her spot on the bed roll, closing her journal and humming.

“Yeah, I’m in the tent.” She moves the flap to the side, seeing Arthur skinning a fairly large hare by the fire.

“So, how far are we from the first stop?” she reached for her satchel to grab her map.

“We just passed through Waco, so it should be two cities over.” She looked through her folded map, trying to find her drawn line on the paper. “Yeah, we have Morgan and then after that is Dublin.”

“Why Dublin anyways?”

“I-,” she paused, looking up with a blank look, “I don’t really remember why I picked it. I just thought frequent rest stops for both us and the horses seem like a smart thing to do.”

“Well, I won’t complain if that’s what you want ta do.” Annabel looked at him, slightly worried that she was doing this wrong.

“Is there a better way to do it?” Arthur looked at her, shrugging his shoulders.

“I don’t know… You’re way sounds pretty good ta me.” She huffs, watching as a puff of steam leaves her lips. He continues to skin and butcher the hare while stoking the small campfire.

They relaxed together in silence, Annabel looking out from under the large trees to the fluttering snowflakes and Arthur preparing to make dinner for them both.

She loved the cold, even though she complained about it a lot, but she especially loved the snow. The pure white flecks of ice that were so fluffy looking, it just made her want to get up and play in them.

So she did.

Annabel bolted up, alarming Arthur as she skipped her way into the snow and spinning around before plopping herself on her back.

“What in the world are ya doin’?” her giggles caused his heart to skip a beat and he couldn’t help but chuckle and let a small grin grace his lips. He finished cutting up the rabbit and set it on the fire to cook. He was debating on joining her but he didn’t want to leave the fire unattended right under a tree.

Until something cold hit him in the face, and a loud laugh hit his ears.

Her nose and cheeks were nipped red from the cold breeze that whistled past their little camp. She was already making another snowball to throw at him, and he groaned because he knew that she was going to throw another one at him if he didn’t get up.

“I’ve gotta cook the rabbit!”

“Oh, come on! It’s snowing!” she threw the snowball at him, but missed just short of his face again. His chuckle caused her to smile wide as she ran around and kicked up some fresh snow.

Arthur leaned back as he flipped the rabbit flank, watching as she started to make some snow angels. He enjoyed watching her have fun, though he wasn’t sure if he should join her. She would get tired eventually, so he stayed, pulling out his journal and drawing what he saw in front of him.

It was Annabel, arms thrown up above her head as she’s kicking up snow. It was a simple sketch, like all the others that filled his pages.

_Annabel seems to enjoy the snow a little too much. Let’s hope she doesn’t get sick._

He chuckles at his little note placed under the sketch before shutting it, and pulling the meat from the fire. He hears her shuffle her way through the snow, her sighs sounding heavy and her giggles still trying to settle.

“You have fun?” he handed her a piece of meat on a knife and she happily took it.

“I did, though it would be more fun if I could have beat you at a snowball fight.” She took a bite out of her piece, staring out at the snow as the wind starts to pick up and rush under the tree where they’re camped. She relishes in the brisk breeze, humming a small tune before shivering hard.

“Let’s hope it don’t get too cold tonight.” He grumbled as he ate his share. “Don’t need anything freezing over before we make it to Dublin.”

“It should be fine.” She finished, cleaning the knife on a rag he was using and placing it next to him. “There’s not much else to do today though so, I’m gonna go rest my head for a while.” He grunted at her as she got up, wobbling a little, “Don’t stay up for too long.”

He watched as she retreated to her tent, sighing heavily when he say the flap fall. He pulled out his journal again, finding his pencil in between the pages where he drew Annabel. He stared at it for a moment longer than he probably should have, before he started to scribble again.

_Annabel, while she looks happy and cheerful, is still grieving over her father. Her actions and words seem exaggerated and too erratic which bothers me a little. She’s trying, I know she is, but she’s trying too hard._

_I wonder if there’s a way for me to let her know she doesn’t have to try too hard to be happy…_

He can’t help but pull out the chain with the two rings from his pocket, and look with hopelessness as he tries to figure out a way to help her heal.

* * *

 

Arthur didn’t really sleep much that night. Mostly because he was so used to a bed, that sleeping on a damn bedroll in the snow was not as pleasant as one would make it seem.

So he got up, way earlier than he should have and started to prepare for the day. He needed to find another rabbit for breakfast and pack up while Annabel was still out. He was ready for the aches his body gave off, and the way his knees creaked and his back groaned had him grunting in pain and annoyance as he stretched his arms over his head.

He was walking himself over to his mare, passing Annabel’s tent when he heard a small sniffle and a shuddering sigh. There were some words being mumbled under her small sobs, and he was sure he knew what she was reading.

“ _It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea…_ ” another sob broke out of her and he could tell she was trying to read it, but small sobs just couldn’t be contained.

He watched the tent, hoping that she would cry it out and let him in but she was in there for good.

“ _That a maiden there lived whom you may know, By the name of Annabel Lee…_ ” That poem…

It was her father’s favorite, and every time he would recite the poem by heart, he would boast about how it was the inspiration for her name. His little Annabel Lee.

Arthur remembered how Morgan would talk about how he came across it in a little book from some dusty, old book store his wife would always run into. These were the days when he could walk and dance with his wife while humming a little tune that only they would know of. He remembered how his voice would glide over the words, as he stared off into the blazing fireplace while Annabel would read her book on the couch and Arthur would simple jot down the memories of his day with a few sketches here and there.

He remembered how lovely – and lonely – that poem sounded to his ears. Though he would admit, he never really knew what a sepulcher was. He could only guess from the context of the lines that is was something not meant for the living.

“ _And this maiden she lived with no other thought, Than to love and be loved by me…_ ” her sobs were harsh and relentless, and he found himself unable to move away from her tent, watching and waiting for her to burst out with need.

But she didn’t. She continued to sob, loud and painfully, unable to finish the rest of the stanzas. He slowly inched his way over to the flap of the tent, hesitant with his movements in hopes to not scare her.

“Annabel?” he heard her gasp, and shove something away into her satchel.

“I’m fine, Arthur.” He scoffed at her response, which only go him a huff of frustration.

“You don’t sound too fine.” She was silent, sniffling some more before opening up the tent flap for him.

“It’s just hard.” Her eyes were bloodshot, her nose was red and dripping and the rag in her lap showed that she had continuously wiped her nose over and over. “One moment I feel fine, and the next I feel like everything is caving in on me.”

“Yeah.” He grunted, sitting down right at the edge of the tent entrance, “Grieving ain’t the easiest task.”

There was a cold silence between them, with the wind whistling around them, pushing the evergreens branches around.

“Have you ever lost someone you loved?” her voice was quiet, almost childlike as if she was going to regret asking it the moment it left her lips. He could feel her eyes on him, but they weren’t trying to bore into him and pull an answer out of him, all she really wanted was someone who could relate to in her process of grief.

“I have.” He was slow to answer, not sure how to word his thoughts, “I’ve lost many that I’ve held dear and loved.”

“How did you pull through?”

He couldn’t truly remember how he pulled through after all the death he saw. With Eliza and Isaac, he was a drunken mess, only whipped into shape when Dutch sent out and found him at a cheap saloon, reeking of piss and vomit with a bottle of rum in his hand.

With Sean, he had to keep going even if he wanted nothing more than the dumb Irish man to come and bother him with that stupidly thick accent. Kieran, he wished he had given that boy a better chance at life. All he ever did was mess with the wrong group of men at the wrong damn time. He didn’t deserve the death he was given.

Hosea, the man who raised him right. To watch that man fall after that bank robbery gone wrong, all he wanted to do was set the world on fire and watch everything burn. The rage he built up from him was lost deep in the humid forests of Guarma when all he could focus on was getting out alive.

And Lenny. Lenny was such a good young man. Spry and ready for anything thrown his way. He didn’t deserve to die like that, shot on the top of a building and left to the vultures. Oh, how he wished he could have saved him.

He wished he could have saved them all.

“Arthur?” he hummed, looking around his shoulder and at Annabel. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, leaning forward to stand once more, “Just… reminiscing.”

“You never told me how you pulled through…?” she asked again, quiet and timid. He chuckles, giving her a soft grin.

“A whole lotta alcohol and some fantastic memories.”

* * *

 

They were on the road again, getting out of the snow and away from the cold and Arthur was thankful for that. Annabel was not. That meant she had to change out of her thick winter coat and other crazy warm items that she only wore in the snow.

“How much farther are we to Dublin?”

“We should hit it by nightfall.” He watched as she shrugged her coat off in annoyance, sweating slightly as she was doing so. “If we keep on this path it should lead us towards the city.”

“Is it a city, or a town?”

“I think it’s a city, but I could be wrong. I’ve never been this far West before.” She focuses back on the path, trotting up next to Arthur.

He notices how tired her eyes look, from the lack of sleep and the excessive crying she only ever does at night. He’s sure that she notices his as well, and he’s only up because of her sobs. He can’t help but feel helpless as she cries and hiccups only a few yards away from him.

“It better be a small one.” She chuckles at his grumbles, pulling out the map from her satchel. “I can barely stand Saint Denis.”

“It’s not that bad.” She laughs, soft and light, throwing her head back slightly before leaning her head towards his. He feels his stomach to flips, but all he can manage his an annoyed grunt.

“Have you ever been to Saint Denis?”

“Only a few times, mostly for work.”

“Then you don’t know.” She laughs once more, and his heart does this weird flutter that makes his chest hurt.

They ride a comfortable trot in silence, letting the cool breeze flow past them and enjoying the idea of being out of the snow.

Annabel was reading her book, following next to Arthur who wasn’t really doing much other thank looking around and humming a small tune.

“ _For which I am a prisoner now, In Stillwater jail, I lie._ ” His voice was quiet, but as gruff as ever as he sang his little campfire song. As he continues his little tune, she notices how scratchy his voice is, how slightly off key he can be, but she still loves it. Who knew that this dangerous man who has done God knows what could sing a small campfire tune.

“ _T'was once't upon a Californy miner, On whom I befell._ ” She smiled, keeping a track of his hums and whispered lyrics. She knows that he doesn’t notice her smile, as she closes her book to catch his attention.

“To think you were a singer, Mr. Morgan.” He clears his throat, but ends up chuckling.

“It was something that my gang would always sing when they were on the road.”

“You gonna sing more as we travel?” she had a teasing tone, but she wasn’t trying to tease him. He chuckled lightly, looking over to her from under his hat.

“I might need some whiskey if I’m gonna be doin’ it in front of ya.” She sighs, something of content and soreness.

“We can do that once we get to Dublin. We should be coming up on it soon.” She places her book in her satchel, spurring her horse on into an extended trot. “I don’t know about you, but a bath sounds nice.”

“Lead the way then.”

* * *

 

Dublin was a different kind of city.

While the place was fairly large and full of bustling people and wagons, the place smelled of oil and coal. As they passed over the tracks into the city, the smell attacked her senses and she coughed at the amount of smoke that hovered in the air.

If she’d had known that this place stunk the way it did, she would have bypassed it.

“Jesus, what the hell is this place?”

“It seems like a mining and drilling city.” Her nose scrunched in disgust as she looked around.

The smog covered the sun and the clean, white clouds, and the sound of trains rolling through the city carrying huge cars of crude oil and chunks of coal. Everything seemed so dirty and the people seemed so bland and muted.

She felt as if they stood out like sore thumbs.

“Let’s just find a hotel, get a hot bath and a night’s sleep.” She picked up a trot, with Arthur following behind her.

As they continued deeper into the city, they noticed how muted the place was. Not a real color in sight, all that was on the wooden outer walls were brown paint, and black roofs with simple black doors. She wished there were some kind of flowers that she could pick and smell, hell she would be happy to smell cow manure and rotten fish.

The hotel wasn’t too hard to find, it was the largest building in the middle of the bustling city. It was a three story building that stretched for a block and she knew that this city was also used to people using it as a resting place for travels.

As she dismounted, she watched Arthur, who was keeping an eye on everything around him as if to take in his surrounding and preparing himself for the worst.

She wondered what the worst that could happen was, at least in his mind.

A heavy sigh passed her lips as she pulled her satchel with her as she hitched Flynn, leaving Arthur to his hesitation and paranoid thoughts.

The Hotel was different from its outer appearance. Wooden floors, brightly colored wallpaper covering all four walls, and a high ceiling that showed the three floors completely. A chandelier adorned with Elk antlers hung high in the ceiling, flickering with candle like bulbs. A gramophone played a quiet classic tune, and there was a couple chatting quietly in some chairs by the fireplace with dainty tea cups in hand.

 Annabel’s footsteps were small and quiet, trying to keep the environment toned down and simple. The young man at the front desk was sweet, with a smile stretched across his face and his eyes scrunched to accommodate.

“How can I help you?” his voice was deep, and Annabel was not expecting someone who looks so innocent and sweet to have such a gruff voice. She bit her lip, still looking around in amazement.

“Can I get two rooms, next to each other and two baths please?”

“Do you prefer a view?” Annabel shook her head.

“No, thank you.” Annabel dug around for some money as the boy went to grab some keys.

“It’ll be five dollars for two rooms for one night and two baths.” She didn’t protest, pulling out the bill and taking the keys from his hand. “You’re rooms are on floor three rooms five and six.”

“Thank you.” She smiled brightly as Arthur came in, boots hitting heavy against the old wooden floor boards. His low groans, and heavy sighs cut through the calming whispers and silence within the lobby.

“Ya got the rooms?” she nodded, not caring that the young man was no longer smiling and the couple was staring in either confusion or fear. He had both of their bags hauled over his shoulder, and the outsiders notice how sweet she was towards this brute of a man.

“Yeah, third floor. I can take my bag, if you’d like.” He waved her off, climbing up the stairs.

“Nah, its fine. Where’re the baths?” Annabel looked over at the young man, biting her lip.

“They have baths on each floor, they should be ready for you once you get up there.” She waves at the young man, who looks terrified and unsure if he should have given them a key for the night.

* * *

 

The water was tantalizingly warm, and the steam helped cleared her sinuses a little as she slowly sank into the bath. A gasp and a content sigh left her lips as she dipped her hair into the soapy water, running her fingers through her greasy hair.

She hung her legs over the edge of the tub, a shivering running through her from the cold air hitting her wet calves. She hummed the tune that Arthur was singing on the road, twirling a strand between her fingers. He legs bounced up and down, slightly due to anxiety and boredom.

She wondered if Arthur was done with his bath, if he was relaxing in his bed, or if he was–

A knock caused her to sit up, water splashing over the edges as she tries to cover herself with the soapy bubbles.

“Annabel?” She let out a relieved sigh. It was just Arthur.

“Yes?”

“I heading to the saloon. Was gonna get some drinks.”

“Okay.” She heard him mumble something, and a groan before his steps resounded echoes within her room.

It was bad of her to think of him, she cursed herself for doing so but it slipped into her mind. It was a trickle down thought but soon it became a wave of memories of the good time they had before this journey. The lovely talks in the middle of the night, to the silent dances while her father slept in the corner. She remembered how scared out of her skin she was when he snuck up on her singing on the porch, and she was sure that he remembered how scared he was when she snuck up on him talking to his mare in a childlike manner.

The water started to grow cold, but Annabel didn’t want to leave the comfort of the porcelain tub and the lukewarm water. She would have to leave eventually, whether it was because of cold water, wrinkly fingers, or Arthur coming back from the saloon slightly drunk and a little too happy for his own good.

She felt the water drip from her hair and roll down the curves of her body, and as she walks towards the towels, she catches a glimpse of herself in the dresser mirror.

She noticed how skinny she was with the slight jutting of her hip bones, the small gap between her thighs, and how her collar bone was just too prominent.

She felt too skinny, too childish in her body with how small everything was.

Annabel knew that she would have to eat a little bit more as time goes on, gain back the weight that she had lost.

She ripped her eyes away from the mirror, drying and dressing herself. She couldn’t keep thinking terribly about herself, tearing herself down for simply healing.

But lord knows that she couldn’t help it.

* * *

 

By the time she was done and joined up with Arthur at the saloon across the way, he was already slightly tipsy and gambling away at a blackjack table.

Though, it wasn’t gambling if he was winning, was it?

She heard his boastful laugh as he raked in the bills, taking another sip of his whiskey.

“God dammit!” she was wary of getting closer, unsure of what might explode if a patron wasn’t happy with the outcome. “One more round!”

“I’ve bled ya dry, my friend. There ain’t no more rounds ta play.” She watched from a distance, leaning against the bar and smiling as Arthur seemed to enjoy himself entirely.

“What can I get ya, missy?” the bartender, an older man covered in gray and built like a fat dwarf, smiled at Annabel.

“Gin and tonic, please.”

“You got it, missy!” and he went to work, as she continued to eye Arthur, who was still arguing with one man about raising the stakes.

“Ya got nothin’ left, unless ya gonna sell ya wife.”

“I got huge bonds in a safe back at my house, I’ll play ya with those.” Arthur slouched in his seat, waving the man off.

“I’m not inta bond’s, feller.” He pulled out a cigarette from his satchel, “I’m inta cash.”

The man groaned, frustrated and annoyed with Arthur, storming out through the swinging saloon doors.

A glass was placed gently in front of her, and she placed a few coins on the counter top.

“Thank you.”

“Holler if ya need anythin’ else, missy.” She leaned over the counter, sipping her drink in peace and listening to Arthur laugh about who knows what. She didn’t care what it was about, all she knew was his laugh was lovely.

“Hey pretty lady, lemme buy ya a drink.” A drunken fool placed himself next to her, and she huffed. He reeked of moonshine and vomit and smoke. He leaned in too close to her and her nose scrunched as he breathed on her shoulder and neck.

“I just got a drink, but thank you though.” She didn’t stare at them, wishing that he would go away and bother a different person. Anyone but her.

“We could all have some fun if ya wanna?” he pushed strands of her hair behind her ear, his fingernails scraping against her temples, making her shudder involuntarily.

“I truly don’t.” she took another sip, not looking at him. He placed his grimy hand on the back of her neck, slowly dragging it down her shoulder blade, to the small of her back and resting it on her hip. She jerked away from him, splashing her drink in his face and slamming the glass down with force.

“You BITCH!” now the whole bar was looking at them, and she could see Arthur standing and pacing himself over to her from the corner of her eyes.

“I wouldn’t talk to the lady like that.” His voice was calm as he closed the distance, a hand around her shoulders and pulling her from the man and putting himself in her place. She looked between Arthur and the drunken fool, and the difference in height between them. Arthur, being the huge brute that he was, towered over the man with a deep scowl and a small smirk on him.

“Who do ya think ya are?” thankfully, or unfortunately – who really knows at this point – argued back, thinking that the alcohol running through his blood system would make him seem bigger and stronger than the mountain of a man in front of him.

“Someone who ain’t so nice.” She watched as Arthur stepped closer, pushing him back into another Patron who wasn’t too happy about that, and shouldered him away from him. “I wouldn’t be so damn rude to people ya don’ know. You don’t know who might just kill ya cause of it.”

She noticed how red the drunk man’s eyes were from the gin and tonic being thrown in his eyes, and how annoyed and a little terrified by how Arthur’s blue eyes radiated with excitement and rage. The little look caused Annabel’s chest to tighten with something she couldn’t explain.

Maybe it was fear, or maybe it was amusement.

She’d never seen him look this way in the last three years.

The drunk man huffed, not really wanting to deal with a fight or deal with the bartender if he were to ruin anything, and stalked off. He eyed Annabel as he moved sluggishly past her, but her worries were soothed as Arthur came up and placed a hand on the small of her back.

“Let’s go back to the rooms. I think we’ve had enough fun for the night.” She felt him push her slightly towards the front door, and she let him guide her out the saloon and to the hotel. She let him guide her carefully down the stairs and through the muddy roads and everything, only because all she can focus on was the heat of his hand on her back and that weird, tingly sensation that started to spread from his hand and all over her spine.

She shuddered under his touch, and her sharp inhale was loud enough to cause his eyes to drift towards her. His gaze was like a flame on her skin, maybe she should have had more alcohol. She felt his fingers shift slightly, his thumb rubbing a little line against her spine.

“Ya alright?” she nodded, far too quickly to his question as they found their way to the doors of their rooms. They paused in front of her door, his hand still flat against the small of her back.

Annabel looked up at him, noticing how red his cheeks and nose were from both the cold, crisp air and the whiskey, noticing how piercing his blue eyes were, noticing how calm his body seemed around her.

He coughed, clearing his throat before removing his hand from her back and she stiffened at the cold air hitting that one little spot.

“I guess I’ll see ya in the morning.”

“Alright.” They stood there standing, staring at each other for a little too long. “Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Goodnight, Anna.” He moved first, hesitantly and slowly, for his door as she unlocked hers with shaky hands. Once she was in her room, she pressed her back against her door and hit her head on the door.

As she starts to let her thoughts wander to the idea of him, she can’t help but wish he was with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, a lot of things came up with me personally and it really took a huge hit on my mental health. I wrote this while dealing with it so if it seems shitty, it's because I'm a terrible person.
> 
> Also yes, Annabel was inspired by my favorite poem Annabel Lee AND as I was replaying the game and exploring, Arthur starts singing a little tune by himself and i just... Had to add it in.
> 
> ALSO I'm a really bad person, because I have another Arthur/OC story that I want to try out but it's in a modern day story and I'm kinda excited to do the research for it!


	8. Chapter 6 - Odessa, TX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I forgot to put a disclaimer in the last chapter but I'll put it here instead.  
> The names of the cities I use for these chapters are REAL places.  
> They way I describe them are all fake.   
> AKA: I didn't want to do research on what each town looked like in a specific time frame so BOOM I made them up. I'm sorry for those who live there or near there and I'm making it all wrong. I'm just lazy.

Within a few days of staying at Dublin, they were on the road once more, leaving the disgusting mining and drilling town for the wild country once more.

They were still bundled up in thick coats and dealing with a few inches of snow. They were still in the thick of November, not even close to being done with the cold and the fresh powder. Not that it matters, because once they hit the mountains in California the snow and the cold wouldn’t bother them as they try to cross over.

But, they weren’t in California.

So they would have to deal with the snow for now.

“I can’t feel my legs…” Annabel groaned, pulling her legs out from her stirrups and shaking them out. “You think we should stop and take a break?” she called over to Arthur, who was looking down at his journal with a cigarette hanging delicately from his lips.

“Ah, it’s up to you, Anna.” He called out, looking up for a moment before going back to writing, or drawing or whatever he does in that journal of his.

“What are you doing?” she asked, almost scared of the answer he might give her, “You better not be drawing me.”

“Nah, I’m drawing some of the landscape. Too pretty to pass up.” She huffed as he continued to stare intently at his journal.

“A few more miles, and I think we should stop and make camp.” He grunted, his only response.

Silence overtook them once more, like it always did. Annabel never once cared about the comforting silence he brought her but today was a day where she just wanted to talk, and drink and _do_ something.

The only thing that stopped her was her anxiety.

That deep seated fear in the pit of her belly and the high pitched, nagging voice that constantly told her that she wasn’t going to be good enough for anyone or anything also made her huff in frustration and groan in pain.

She took a swig of water from her leather canteen, hoping that it would cause the weird taste in her mouth to go away.

Annabel had dreamt the night that they stayed in Dublin, despite the environment around her and the smells that invaded her nose. She had dreamt of Arthur, despite her better judgment and her need to mourn. She had dreamt of him, with his rough, calloused hands and his gruff but oh so smooth voice. She had dreamt of his laughter fluttering around her and invading her senses with something better than those disgusting smells.

She had to take a deep breath, to keep herself calm from the small and brief memories of her dreams.

They had made camp as the sun fell over the white horizon, somewhere by the cliff sides where an alcove could shield them from the high wind chills that would pass through the valley and trees. A fire was easy to set up, and making a meal from some goose that Arthur killed on his way up was good enough for a simple, warm meal.

The silence was starting to get to her, but she knew if she opened her mouth she would say something that she would regret. Her anxiety laughed at her, causing her head to pound and throb as she slowly ate her small dinner.

“You alright?” Arthur asked, his quiet voice still echoing within the alcove. Annabel nodded meekly, rubbing her face with one hand.

“I just have a headache, I’ll be fine.” He looked like he wanted to push the subject, pursing his lips into a thin line and grumbling something that she couldn’t care to figure out.

She went to bed early, the sun still lighting the sky some, telling Arthur that she couldn’t deal with the headache any more. He had hesitated on saying goodnight to her, and she could see in his face that he wanted to help in some way.

In the end though, he mumbled his goodnight to her and sat by the fire as she closed the flaps of her canvas tent.

So now he was surrounded by a cooling silence, a slight breeze coming into the alcove and hitting his back. He shivers at the feeling of cold hair hitting the back of his neck, and fixes his fur collar for added protection.

He opened his journal to the page that he had opened when they were on the trail. He looked at the piece filled with graphite and charcoal marks as it showed the landscape of trees and hillsides.

He wished he had some sort of color to add to it, give it some kind of pop and a bit more life to it but there was nothing he could do for that.

He flipped the page, giving him an empty canvas to fill with something. Words this time, wanting – almost needing – to get his thoughts out to paper.

He scribbled down words in his chicken scratch cursive, scratching out words that he misspelled or didn’t want to use.

_There’s been a weird tension going on between me and Annabel. Almost as if something has been bothering her._

_She seems chatty, which isn’t something she usually is unless something is bothering her, and getting her to say what’s bothering her is harder unless she drinks. And there’s a good chance she’s gonna drink once we get to Odessa._

_Let’s just hope that saloons in Odessa are filled with people who can keep their hands to themselves._

* * *

 

The large town of Odessa – could he call it a town if it had a population big enough to house a damn skyscraper he saw in the newspaper once – was a quaint little town. It was definitely a livestock town but the place was bustling with people who were doing a sport he never thought he would see anymore.

Bull riding.

Now, Arthur wasn’t someone who would boast about his bull riding skills, because he didn’t have any.

That didn’t stop him from wanting to try it out once more before he got too old and his back gave out.

Annabel had made her way to the hotel where she wanted to stay, got them a room with two beds. He grumbled just as hard as she huffed, saying that was all they could offer. The only perk was that it was connected to a personal bathroom with a working tub.

Annabel insisted that Arthur went first with his bath, only because she wanted to go look around and shop by herself. There wasn’t much room for arguments because all she did was tell him to take a bath before running out the door with a small smile of curiosity.

So he ran a hot bath for himself, letting the steam clear up his dried nostrils and calm his tense nerves. He lathered some of the soap in his hair, watching as the water turned from clear to a murky brown. He grew so comfortable to a life of having a bath constantly that he scrunched his nose at the idea of being this damn dirty.

He was growing soft, and some part of his hated it.

He was a wanted man once, running around causing fights, stealing money, exploring the land for its hidden treasures.

And now?

Now he was a man of leisure, sleeping in a bed and not trying to get caught up with his simple, late night thoughts. He was getting old, too old to do the things he once did before but that didn’t mean he didn’t miss enticing thrill of a shootout or a bank robbery.

Those were the good old days, the days when outlaws ruled the heartlands and valleys.

Civilization brought it all tumbling down, and Dutch…

He huffed, dunking his head under the water to rinse his hair.

He couldn’t really think about his old gang anymore, not without feeling far too much, far too fast.

The water started to grow cold, and that was when he knew it was time to get out and grab Annabel. He dressed himself, watching himself in the mirror and noticing how long his hair has grown and that he was in dire need of a beard trim.

Maybe once the winter is over, he would cut it shorter. Right now, he would hit up the saloon and the barber for a haircut.

He found Annabel in the saloon a few streets down, out drinking some Irish man with a thick accent going on and on about how well he could handle his liquor. She slammed shot after shot after shot of cheap vodka until that Irish man collapsed onto the ground in a gurgling mess.

“I hope he holds up his side of the bet.” She looked at the bartender, nodding with a satisfied smile. “Put it on the drunken fool’s tab, please.” The woman behind the bar served her another drink, a gin and tonic, saying it was on the house and that she would be bringing her a stew out for her soon.

Annabel had her glass in her hand, walking over to a table by the window when she saw Arthur with an amused smirk on his face.

“To think you could out drink that fool.”

“It was water, the bartender said that he was always causing trouble and I challenged him.” She took a seat closest to the window, a glorious grin on her face

“You cheated?”

“Is it really cheating if the bartender helps?” Arthur chuckles, calling out for a whiskey.

“But I do really want to get some alcohol in my system and just…” she huffs, gesturing her hands in odd circles, “I don’t know. I’m feeling antsy.”

He called it.

“Well, we could always get service to the room if we get _too_ drunk.”

“I didn’t know they offered room service at the hotel?” Arthur nodded, smiling a little at her peaked interest and childlike excitement.

“Yeah, I saw it on a little sign by the front desk.” She hummed, sipping her drink slow.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

He stayed a sober party for a majority of the night, while Annabel filled her belly with stew and gin. Her cheeks were red from the alcohol and her yawns were large from the amount of food she shoved down her gullet.

“Maybe we should head back to the room.” She leaned her head back, letting out a groan. He smiled at her, before looking at her throat and seeing the peaking scar. It was a little bit, all pink and raised.

For the last three years he kept his secrets close to him. The secrets of his gang, of the people who had killed and stole from. The secrets of who he really was.

But she too had secrets of her own that he never knew of.

“I don’t wanna go to bed.”

“Well, I really don’t want to beat anyone because they can’t keep their hands off of ya.” She mad a noise, throwing her head back towards him.

“Aww, you don’t have to worry. I can handle myself, Arthur.”

“Yeah, let’s get back.” She sighed as he got up from his chair, leaving a few dollars for the bartender. She groaned, but didn’t protest anymore as Arthur offered his hand for her. Annabel took it, wobbling a little as she stood up. “A bit dizzy ain’t ya?”

“Shut up, I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” She mumbled, as she watched her feet to keep from tripping over herself. “I might be a little dizzy.” His chuckle makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

“Let’s get to the room, so you don’t eat shit or get hurt.” She hummed, smiling like an idiot as they walked out of the saloon.

He helped her towards the hotel, completely forgetting how much of a lightweight she was. She never drank that much back at Donner Falls, maybe a glass or two once her father was put to bed and the night was calm enough for it when she needed to muse upon her thoughts

She hated the whiskey that her father collected and drank, and she was disgusted once she found out that he himself was a whiskey person. Arthur remembers fondly the scrunch of her nose and her sticking out her tongue, complaining about the gross taste and the harsh burn that it would leave in her throat.

But she loved her gin, and sometimes if one of her richer clients liked her enough during Christmas time, she loved her dark red wines. Annabel was never one to drink to get drunk, but one to drink to enjoy the craftsmanship that was put into making something so delicious and fragrant.

Before meeting and living with her, he would merely grab a bottle of alcohol and drink it because of the effect that it left on his body. Now, he was picky and snooty about what kind of whiskey he was drinking.

High quality, imported, ten plus years.

He had truly grown spoiled in his time staying with Annabel.

“How did ya manage to get so sloshed on only a few drinks?” she giggles, stumbling over her own feet as Arthur held onto her arms to keep her from eating shit.

“I think I’m fine for the amount of alcohol I was given.” He stifles a chuckles and holds her hand as she climbs the stairs. “Maybe a little woozy, but I can manage.”

Calmness washed over both of them as they stepped into the hotel room, and relished in the warmth that the fireplace radiated. It was cozy and warm, and Arthur finally had a chance to look over the room

Two beds, with a full bathroom attached off to the right of beds. There was a chair off by the window with a thick linen canopy hanging over it, making it feel like a nice reading nook.

The blankets that covered the large mattresses were thick quilts, solid tan with brightly embroidered flowers covering them. They were ugly, no doubt, but they would keep them warm through the night once the fire smoldered from being unattended.

Annabel had peeled herself away from Arthur, wobbling over to her bed before jumping into the pillows and the spring mattress. The springs creaked under her weight, but she sighed in relief finally getting off of her feet.

He watched her, amused with her childish actions and calm attitude as a goofy smile crossed over her lips. She turned from her back and onto her side, pulling off her boots and socks.

Arthur always knew that she wasn’t built like the other women he’s encountered and known. Most of them had an hourglass figure to them in some way from the tight fitting corsets that they were either forced to wear or adamant on wearing. They were proportionate from shoulder to hips to thighs.

Annabel; however, was not like that.

Her hips and thighs were bigger; wider compared to her tight waist, her small chest and narrow shoulders. He always remembered her altering the new dresses she bought because they either fit well against her hips but was too big in her chest and shoulders or vice versa.

Annabel always complained there was nothing for a pear shaped woman like herself, thus leaving her to either get custom made items, or alter her own dresses.

He hummed as he lit a cigarette, watching as her hips and legs flex and move as she pulled off her boots roughly. The large, gorgeous curve of her hip as it sloped deep into her waist. He always caught himself staring, and there were times when _she_ caught him staring but never did anything to stop him.

What was there to do that would stop him from _staring_?

“You’re staring, you know?” she teased him, throwing her boots to the other side of her bed. She was giggling for a moment before rubbing her face and stifling a yawn. Her stomach fluttered from her little laughs, and Arthur couldn’t help but smile.

He sat on her bed, back towards her, “Woman, you are drunk.” He simply shook his head as she shifted to lay on her back once more and stretch deeply.

“Nah, I’m just relaxed.”

Silence just washed over them again, and it was comfortable and soothing as a breeze blew through the open window; keeping the room from getting too stuffy from the fireplace.

The birds still chirped, even as the sun was done and dipping past trees and the hills and the moon took its place. The lamp on the night table between the beds was enough to light the small area between the two beds; between the two of them.

“Tell me about your gang.” Annabel sighed, sounded content and relaxed. She wouldn’t lie, she felt like she was _melting_ into the bed, and her eyes were starting to flutter close and her body was starting to fall into the cycle of sleep. She was quiet when she spoke, and she wondered if it would even reach his ears.

But it did, and it caused his soul vibrate.

“Why?” she chuckled, low and hearty as it reverberated in her chest.

“Why not?” she had taken her hair tie out and let her hair fall from its confined braid and into curls that fell over the edge of the bed and spilled across the clean pillows. “You never liked talking about it, but I really want to know about what your life was like before all of this. Before me.”

“It’s not that interesting, ya know.” He grumbled, and she flopped onto her side and pushed against his lower back.

“I’ll tell you about my college days if you talk about your gang.”

The deal was enticing, but seemed too risky. Too risky for him, anyways.

“You gonna tell me about that scar on yer neck?” she laughs sharply, running her hand over the collar of her blouse.

“I might. It did happen during my second year.” He contemplated for a moment, snuffing out his cigarette in the dish under the lamp as he tried to piece the words together in his head.

“If not, you could always sing me to sleep.” She joked, still running her fingers at the edge of her collar.

“I’ll tell ya ‘bout it.” He huffed at her, shifting to lay down next to her on the bed, “But ya better tell me about your dame college days. And don’t go fallin’ asleep on me.” He pointed at her, and she merely smiled at him as she turned onto her back.

“I promise.” She debated sticking her pinky out to him, thinking that if she made a pinky promise, maybe he wouldn’t be so annoyed with her questions.

She decided against it as she heard Arthur sigh deeply and then groan in pain as he stretched out his back.

Arthur is at a loss, completely unsure of how to start his story. He wasn’t sure what he should be mentioning due to the fact that what he did before he ever met her was particularly… unsavory.

“What do ya wanna know?” he asked her, hoping that he could avoid certain topics and not have to tell her the whole day story of his life.

That wasn’t going to happen though.

“Everything.” She hummed, not looking at him. “Start at the beginning, and stop trying to avoid this.”

He huffed once more, slightly frustrated with the situation that he managed to get himself into.

“Where does one even start…” he mumbled, rubbing the scruff on his chin. He truly didn’t know how to word it, but he could see every life moment of his with vivid detail.

“When did you start running with a bunch of misfits and outlaws?” she tried to help, poking fun at what he used to do and who he used to be.

“Oh, I was fifteen, maybe sixteen at the time when Hosea and Dutch took me in…”

This went on for hours, finally finding that bubble of motivation in the pit of his stomach to talk. He always thought his life story was boring in a way; all he ever did was murder, stole and ran. That’s all he ever really knew what to do before he was forcefully taken in by Annabel and her father.

He was almost a coward with the way that he ran around in the past, even if he tried to do good by his own moral status.

But things have a tendency to not go according to plan.

He mentioned _some_ of the bad things he did, trying not to get too graphic with the amount of violence he had seen. He talked about his gang members; alive and deceased. He talked about Hosea and Dutch, and how those two raised him to be the man he was now, talked about Ms. Grimshaw and how her bark was smaller than her bite. He mentioned the girls of the camp; Karen, Tilly and Mary-Beth and how they tended to the camps chores even when all they wanted to do was explore.

He talked about Sean, about Mac and Davey, Lenny, Jenny, and Kieran too. How their deaths were too soon and too harsh to talk about in full. He wanted to mention how he felt like it was all his fault, how he had caused their untimely demise but he knew that it was just his demons nagging him all over again.

He lingered on the idea of talking about Mary, a woman he thought he loved so carelessly and deeply only to be thrown to the dirt because of who he was.

And soon enough his mind wandered to Eliza and his boy Isaac.

Arthur wondered if Annabel would judge him because he had a son with a girl who was barely a woman. He wondered if she would be ashamed to be around him at the idea of him having a child bored out of wedlock.

Oh, how he wondered if she was ashamed of who he used to be.

But when he looked over to her, all he saw was sleepy eyes and a sleepy smile.

She had listened to the whole thing, oh so intently and carefully taking in everything he talked about.

The crickets outside chirped loudly and the cicada’s that hid in the trees clicked and echoed their calls. They stared at each other for who knows how long, and Arthur flicked his eyes over her features.

Sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline; freckles that seemed to be dusted lightly over her cheeks and her nose and her forehead made him sigh. The slight gold tone in her brown eyes and the warmth of her skin caused him to shiver, especially when she brought her hand up to run her delicate fingers over his worry lines, his crow’s feet, all down towards his smile lines and the raised, puckered scar on his chin.

“Life has been so cruel to you, but you are still here…” she mumbled, too entranced in his soft eyes and her own sleepiness.

“I’m barely here.” He chuckled at her drooping eyes and her sheepish smile.

“It’s worth something…” her thumb caressed the scar on his chin, and he couldn’t help but close his eyes and sigh. His body relaxed deep into the spring mattress, not wanting to get up from his spot that he was oh, so comfortable.

But soon enough he would have to get up.

“You still owe me a story.” She hummed, which turned into a giggle, and Arthur couldn’t help but smile even as her finger and well-kept nails dragged over his lips.

“Can you get some water, and then I’ll tell you?” she had those big doe eyes, with a fake pout which only caused him to chuckle.

“You still gonna tell me about your college days?” he pushed with a crooked smile and bright eyes. Annabel still giggled like the drunken girl she was, but her eyes were starting to droop from the exhaustion of the ride and the alcohol running through her system.

“Water first, than story.” She pointed at him, grinning up at him as she pulled her hand away from him and he started to sit up.

So, he got up, huffing and stretching out his back before going towards the bathroom to get her some water. He had to shuffle around for a moment, trying to find a clean glass for her to drink out of.

He came out with a glass water and his jacket thrown off only to come out to see her out like a light.

“Good lord…” he mumbled as he took her in. She had twisted onto her side facing away from him and her shoulders rose and fell with every calming breath she took. Her hair took over most of her pillow, and ended up spilling over it and onto the mattress.

She was sound asleep, and he knew that by morning time, she would be back to her normal self.

He wasn’t ready to sleep just yet, leaning against the backboard of his bed with his journal in his hand and his thoughts eating away at him slightly.

He took the silence of the night to write down his worries and thoughts; thinking of something to keep his mind off of the bad memories an unusual dreams of his past. His head felt wary and his shoulders heavy as he held the world upon his shoulders even though he didn’t have to anymore.

He ended up flipping through his journal, glancing at several pictures that he had drawn only to stop when two photographs fell from the pages.

It was of Annabel and her father from the photography store that was in Valentine, and the other of just Annabel and Arthur surrounded by flowers.

The one with Annabel and her father was simple, flowers laying everywhere, basic décor with Morgan sitting in his wheelchair with a thick knitted blanket and Annabel standing behind him with a hand on his shoulder.

The date on the back made his brows furrowed as he remembered something important.

_November 23 rd_

_Happy Birthday Annabel_

He sighed, running his hand over his face.

Her birthday was yesterday.

No wonder she was so antsy.

Annabel was never really one for celebrating her birthday, but her father was always adamant on celebrating. He would always send Arthur down to Saint Denis to get something from a specific bakery for her, and she would always protest because she always _knew_ what he was making the man do.

He placed the photos to the side, and tore out a blank page from his journal.

Short and sweet, was the little note he left upon the paper as he folded it in half and tucked the photos gently between the folds.

He placed it on her side of the night stand, turned off the lamp, and went to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh I really wanted to add more to this but it felt so dragged out anyways.   
> And yes, Annabel is a Scorpio-Sagittarius Cusp  
> Wait till you find out what I made Arthur.


	9. Chapter 7 - Santa Rosa, NM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh... Finals are upon me and holy shit it has taken me so long to get this chapter out. I'm starting to do the slow burn shit and I'm feeling pENT UP BECAUSE OF IT.  
> Also Arthur it a giant man compared to my girl.

Annabel was excited and terrified of passing over the state line from Texas to New Mexico, that once they were a few feet from it, she stopped her horse to stare out pass the bridge that led to the next state.

She had never been past West Austin or New Hanover, Going to Dublin was extensive enough on her as it was.

And now?

Now, she was crossing over the state lines.

“Anna?” Arthur called out to her, already on the other side of the small bridge. She looked up at him, took a deep breath, and spurred Flynn into a walk right over the bridge.

“Sorry. I’ve never been this far out.” He chuckled, waiting for her to walk up next to her.

“Neither have I, though it was always a dream of Dutch’s to go west.” She leans a little over towards him, causing Flynn to move over closer to his mare.

“I don’t know why he would want to. West isn’t really wild anymore.” She watched him shrug as he shrugged, but his smile said it all.

“That it ain’t.” he relaxed his shoulders and leaned back in the seat of his saddle. The sun was just starting to peak over the mountains. As they rode down the flat path. The snow was still thick around them, but the path was nothing but mud from the amount of use. The imprints of wagon wheels and horseshoes, they could tell this path was well used.

“We should be some miles out from Carlsbad. We can stop there for some food and a nights rest before we follow that road up to Santa Rosa.” He noticed that she pulled out her map, folding it in specific places just to look at specific areas on the map. The light breeze past through them, cold and dry, blowing the stray strand of hair form her braid back.

“Which would take how long?”

“Depends. A day or two.” She looked up, tucking her stray hairs behind her ear. “How badly do you want a bath and a bed?” he chuckled once more, his shoulders shaking and his belly rolling from it.

“How badly do _you_ want a bed?” he countered, humming when she laughed softly at his response.

Carlsbad was a nice little place, the people were decent enough and the alcohol was strong. Annabel was able to get the supplies she needed, and Arthur was able to sleep in a bed and take a bath, though he wouldn’t admit he was happy to get out the mud and grime and replace it with the smell of basic soap and cologne that was complimentary with the room.

He definitely took that bottle when they left, but he also wouldn’t admit that.

The ride to Santa Rosa was not as simple as the ride to Carlsbad.

As they ascended the mountain side, the wind picked up and so did the snow. It got so bad that they had to dismount and pull the horses along to a little abandoned cabin with a small wooden cover for the horses.

Arthur had left Annabel with the two horses as he went to make sure that the cabin was truly empty, but he could tell from outside. He still trudged through the knee high snow, throwing his legs up awkwardly just to get through the snow and up to the little porch.

He pushed the door open, pointing his revolver in front of him and it was empty, for the most part.

Two frozen bodies were found curled around each other by the stone cold fire place, and he felt a pang of guilt in his chest as he lowered his gun and sighed.

“You poor pair of bastards…” he mumbled as he went to go pick them up and take them outside so Annabel wouldn’t have to see what this harsh weather and cruel fate left behind.

He buried them, melded together under the snow and leaving a piece of wood in their stead. If he had known their names, he would have carved them into the wood but they weren’t so fortunate in such weather.

When he walked back into the cabin, Annabel stood in front of him, holding herself and her hood thrown over her head.

“The blizzard is picking up, we’ll need to start a fire.” She mumbled, walking over to the fire place and taking the scraps of wood that were left in the wicker basket. “Hopefully this storm will pass soon and we can simple move on in the morning.” Arthur simply hummed at her as he placed his satchel on the kitchen table and watched as she tried to start a fire with cold, stiff fingers.

“Do ya need some help?” she let out a tired and heavy sigh as she tried – and failed – to light the match near the fire.

“I might. My fingers might be too cold to get this fire started.” He came over to her, placing a hand on her back and he felt her shiver at the contact. “I wouldn’t mind heating up some canned salmon for dinner. The cold tends to make me hunger.”

“Here, I’ll get the fire started if you manage to get some food ready to eat?” she looked up at him, their faces inches away from each other. The smell of cigarette and salted venison lingered on his breath, and Annabel couldn’t help but watch his lips move as he mumbled his words.

Her heart fluttered and she couldn’t help but lick her lips and look away as he moved in several jerky motions towards the fire place.

Annabel stood and walked over to the front door to go grab somethings off their horses while he got the fire started and searched around the cabin for blankets and furs and pillows.

He managed to set up a little sleeping area closest to the fire with the spare blankets and pillows he found in the small cabin. Once he found that the area was good enough, he set out to look around the place and see if there was anything worth taking.

Arthur found that a majority of the pictures of the people who used to live here were in the tiny bed room that was off to the right of the kitchen.

The couple looked young, barely in their twenties and the woman within the picture held her swollen belly. There was a piece of paper with the babes hands and feet and a small bassinet closest to the left side of the large bed, but he couldn’t see any sign that there was a baby living in this home.

His chest hurt at the thought that the baby passed, whether it was from the snow or from medical complications so he told himself over and over that the baby managed to live on away from this cold and unforgiving area.

He sighed, the sight of a child’s hand and foot prints and the mothers’ swollen belly bringing back too many memories that he tried too hard to keep down.

He couldn’t help but think of Eliza and Isaac, and he wondered just how old he would be if he were still alive. The little boy would most likely be in his teens, but as the time continues to fly past him, he found it harder and harder to remember their faces.

He could only remember Eliza’s green eyes and Isaac’s baby blues that resembled his almost too much.

“Arthur, what are you doing?” he jumped out of his skin, nearly dropping the delicate wooden frame on the harsh, cold floor. She had a large bundle of furs in her arms, heavily covered in snow and most likely partially frozen. “I found these outside. Thought we could thaw them out and use them.” He let his shoulders drop in relief, the sight of her was enough to let calm wash over him even in this howling and bitter cold.

“That might work.” He hummed, standing up and walking over to her. She peaked over his shoulder, looking over at the chest that Arthur abandoned.

“What did you find?” her curiosity peaked right as he started to guide her out of the room.

“Just some things that the people who lived here before left behind.” She let him guide her back towards the fire place, closing the door behind him and leaving the memories behind.

But deep down, Annabel wondered what was left behind once they left.

* * *

 

Annabel found herself comfortable farthest away from the fireplace, right next to Arthur. From the many years living in the Grizzlies, she found it easy to handle the cold and use thick clothes and a simple fire to keep herself warm.

Arthur; however, did _not_ handle the cold very well and was shivering harshly next to Annabel.

Annabel had covered him with her blanket, though he tried to be the gentleman type and say that he was fine even if she could see that he was; in fact, _not_ fine.

He was huddled closest to the fire, which ate away at the wood that they would have to put in every hour. That might be why he was so cold since he was the one having to run outside to the little cover where the horses were and grab the pieces of cut up oak to keep the fire going.

Annabel couldn’t help but smile at him as she passed him a cup of coffee and a small flask of whiskey.

“I can hear your teeth, you know.” Her joke was met with a childish glare from Arthur, who still took the cup of coffee and the flask with gentle hands.

“Shut up. How are you fine when it’s still cold enough to freeze us alive?”

“I was born in the snow and the mountains and the cold, Arthur. The cold and I get along just like cookies and milk.” He looked up at her, in awe and jealousy. Her fingers and her palms were so warm against his gloved hands and he couldn’t help but wonder how the hell she was so damn warm. “Put some of the whiskey in the coffee and it should warm you up.”

He merely nodded at her as she walked away to get some of the food that she brought in from the horses. The spiked coffee tasted strong on his tongue and left him feeling warm in his chest and belly.

He would simple watch the fire blaze on as Annabel worked on getting some food set up for the both of them, covering him with another blanket for extra warmth and looked around for something she could cook a can of salmon and a can of sweetcorn for them to eat for the night. He noticed that she had placed a chocolate bar in his lap, but he couldn’t pin point _when_ she did that.

She found a cast iron skillet in a cabinet, and she placed it in the fire before placing two open cans on top of it to heat up.

“Feeling a little warmer?”

“Yeah.” He finished off his coffee, and stared at his empty cup. He wondered how long and how hard he would have to stare at it until it filled right back up again. “Last time I was in such a cold place, I was in Colter.”

“Why were you in Colter?” she stoked the fire, making sure that it wasn’t going to go out any time soon.

“It was after the whole mess back in Blackwater, when I was still runnin’ with my gang.” She nodded, racking her brain trying to remember when she had told her that.

It was probably when they were in Odessa, when she had too much alcohol. She woke up to an empty room, some pictures on her nightstand and a birthday note from Arthur in his neat and curly handwriting.

“You know, I’ve never been to Colter, but I heard that some bad stuff happened to the miners that worked there.” She commented, hoping to move the conversation from something she knew she was told but couldn’t remember to something she could talk about and not feel guilty for any given reason. “I remember helping one man out in Strawberry with some simple scrapes and bumps and he talked about his injuries and scars that he got from Colter.” She leaned back, wiping some sweat from her brow. “He said that Colter was cursed and a demon resides there only to torment sinners.”

“Did you believe him?” A chuckle escaped her lips, and Arthur felt himself growing warm from just that.

“I’m not religious. In anyway.” She looked over to him, shifting her weight to lean against only one of her hands. “My parents grew up Catholic but they never really raised me with religion in mind.”

“My momma did before she passed, and my father was too much of drunk to really care.”

“Do you believe there is a high power up above us, watching from the clouds?” he hesitated with his answer, only because he had to go through his memories to see if he ever really, truly believed in any god.

“I can see myself believing there is a higher power, but really I don’t think we’ll know until were dead.” She hummed, watching the fire. He noticed that her eyes turn gold under the reddish-yellow glow of the fire.

“I can respect that. I went to school for medicine and medicine is nothing but science and I’m sure you can see where I’m going with that.”

He didn’t respond to her, letting the haunting howls of the brisk blizzard wind rush outside the cabin and the crackling of the fire take over his sense. He noticed that she was pulling the cast iron from the fire and left it on the bricks to cool off.

“I’m not too hungry so you can have them.” She had laid herself down on the bedroll covered in blankets and furs and got herself comfortable enough for bed. He tried his best not to watch as she adjusted her dress and shifted her body until she was set with her position.

He listened to her breathing and the way that it started to slow with her heightening sleep. The fire still blazed and crackled as he started to lose himself within his thoughts.

* * *

 

The blizzard broke in the middle of the night, and the fireplace was still warm with golden embers.

Annabel woke slowly, her eyes peaking every so often so her eyes could adjust to the bright, white light that poured in from the window. She could hear Arthur’s soft snores from next to her, as she pushed strands of hair from her face and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

She rolled onto her back, stretching out her limbs and letting out a loud yawn. Arthur shifted, pressing his back against her side and groaning softly before letting out a loud sigh and relaxing once more.

She stared at the back of his head, pushing some of his hair away from her nose before sneezing loud enough to cause Arthur to jump from his position next to her to covering her chest with his.

He had a hand reaching for his gun, while Annabel started to chuckle at his actions.

“God, you’re heavy…” she groaned as she tried to push him off. Annabel could tell he was still waking up by the way he started to blink away from the bleariness and grogginess while he tried to yawn himself awake.

“You jus’ call me fat?”

“No, I said you’re _heavy_. You are a _whole foot_ taller than me, it’s not a shock that you’re _bigger_ than me.” She pushed on his chest, and huffed in his face. He chuckled, and moved with slight hesitation. His hand graved her side, and he wondered if she felt it or if the shiver that left her body was from the cold.

“Sounds like the blizzard broke overnight. We should pack up and head out before we hit any more snow storms like that.”

Arthur was the first to stand, wobbling a little as he started to roll up his bedroll and throw around the blankets that they borrowed from the cabin.

Annabel stayed on her back, her hand running over her the button on her coat. Her side still tingled from his touch, and her heart was still pounding hard from the weight of him. She couldn’t pin point why she was reacting this way around him, especially _now_ of all times. Her belly started to churn on the idea of being with him, when she knew she needed to be mourning but then her mind went back to what Sadie had told her when they were at Beecher’s Hope.

_“You may know what goes on inside, but it's not definite.”_

“Anna?” his voice was gruff from sleep, but his eyes were bright and alert and she felt her heart do flips as he glanced at her. She noticed that he was in need of a trim as well, as he pushed his hair back and placed his hat over it before scratching at his beard.

“We’ll have to take you to a barber.” She pushed herself up, feeling the wooden floors below her creak from the weight. “You’re starting to look feral.”

“I do not look _feral_.” He jabbed at her, helping her up from the floor with a childish glare. “Maybe _you_ should get a haircut, Rapunzel.” She huffed a laugh as she started to pick up the furs and blankets.

“The fact that you know that book is surprising.” He huffed a chuckle as he started to roll up her bedroll for her.

Annabel threw the furs and extra blankets on kitchen table – out of the way and out of mind – as she went back to take her bedroll from Arthur.

Packing up with easy, but in order to pack up their stuff, they had to trudge through thigh high snow.

Well, thigh high for Arthur.

Hip high for Annabel.

“How did you end up so damn short if yer mother was just as tall as your father?” Arthur joked, watching Annabel throw her arms forwards just to get enough momentum to get through.

“My father used to joke and say that she cheated on him with a dwarf, thus creating me.”

“What made him rethink that?”

“He said that dwarves were ugly little bastards and that I had his looks.” She took her time wading through the snow, knowing well enough that Arthur was laughing at her efforts. “I believe though, that all of my looks came from my momma, so who knows. Maybe my real father is a dwarf.” She chuckled, before yelping and falling face first into the snow.

Arthur’s laughter was slightly muffled by the snow that seamlessly covered her body. The fresh powder was light and soft and so damn _cold_ , that she shot up from her position and gasped at the sudden chill that ran down her neck and through her back.

Arthur was next to her, helping her get her footing by grabbing her arms. He was always so gentle with her, but he also knew that a gentle touch would lead to her falling once more.

So he held on with a little bit more of a firmness that she was not used to, and he felt her muscles tense under his fingers and thick coat.

She was strong, from the way her arms went from soft tissue to hard muscle that was used to saving lives, hauling bales of hay and carrying a large cast iron pot full of fresh stew to and from the fireplace.

She looked up at him, almost instinctively, and let out a puff of steam from her nose. His gorgeous blues bored right through hers and she noticed how bright they look under the simple light of the sun. She noticed the slight flecks of green that circled around his pupils and a darker ring of blue that wrapped around his irises.

He was indeed handsome, and both her brain and heart agreed with each other for once to _go for it_.

But she caught herself from doing anything stupid, looking away from his eyes and grazing over his lips for a millisecond too long then looking down at the snow that was now seeping into her socks and boots.

“I think we should get going.” She waited for Arthur to release her arm, and he did moments after she had made that statement.

He couldn’t help but feel hopeful, with the way that she reacted. Her brown eyes seeming like pools of honey in the sun, and the slight specks of freckles that ran over her face seemingly easier to find in the brightness of the sun. He couldn’t help but let his stomach churn at the sight of her nipping at her bottom lip, deep in thought and when she tore her eyes away from his he felt a slight dread fill the pit of his belly.

She had slid her arm out from his grip, his gloved fingers grazing her arm until her hand reached his and her fingers tickled his palm. For a moment, he thought there was a pause in her movement when she let her fingers glide over his.

For a moment, he was sure that she had squeezed his hand.

* * *

 

Santa Rosa was a gorgeous.

And huge.

And extremely _festive_.

When they crossed over the hill and looked down at the city that seem to spread on for acres, they noticed all the twinkling lights, the smell of fresh baked items, and the large evergreen tree that sat tall in the middle of the city center.

When they checked into a hotel, only then did they realize that Christmas was twenty five days away.

Arthur got disgruntled learning that Christmas was just around the corner, knowing full well what it would entail for the both of them.

But they would cross that bridge once the time came along, and until then, they would enjoy the calm but bustling city with the pretty lights and the enticing smells.

They skipped out on the saloons for once, and ended up sitting down at a slightly fancy and fairly popular restaurant even if Arthur quietly complained about the price point and the stuffy arrogance that the people seemed to bring along with them. Annabel didn’t really understand what he meant, but she told him she would take care of the bill, saying that money wasn’t the problem.

Those words had him wondering _where_ she got money, knowing full well that the people she helped back home barely paid her anything. She refused to take their money, especially when her patients would confess to the Valentine doctor scamming them to the point where they had to take out loans to pay for basic medical needs.

So she would give them what they needed, practically free of charge.

He watched Annabel, swirling his fantastic and most likely expensive whiskey within his glass, and waiting patiently for their food to come out from the kitchen. Annabel was leaning forward on the table, a glass of red wine in her hand, and a few crumbs of bread strewn across her small plate.

“It’s a nice change of pace compared to the other cities.” She hummed, tapping her finger against the glass to the live music that was playing in the background.

“This one is surely cleaner.” She giggled, sipping her wine a little. He stared as she licked her bottom lip, still tapping her finger to the soft, little tune.

Food came along, light and simple and not something that would sit so heavy in their stomachs. The waiter recommended their soups, that’s what they were known for so that’s what they got.

“I will bring you some more bread.” The waiter said as he placed down the two bowls. Annabel nodded with a smile, while taking the cloth napkin and placing it on her lap.

Arthur; who was so used to just shoving food down his gullet, watched her in confusion. She was so elegant and dainty as she placed the napkin on her lap, but where the _hell_ did she learn this dumb etiquette.

“Are you gonna eat?” she asked, stirring her soup with a small spoon.

“Why are we here, Anna?” she wasn’t even able to get her bite in when he asked her that question with such a defensive tone. She wasn’t sure what had gotten into him, but as the waiter came over with a new loaf of fresh sourdough, she could only muster up a fake smile and a small thank you.

Arthur wasn’t sure what had just slipped past his lips, he wasn’t even sure what he was asking but all he knew was that frustration had bubbled its way into his chest from the pit of his stomach and it started to ruin his appetite.

They stayed quiet, sitting across from each other at the small, square table with its pristine white table cloth and small candles that sat comfortably in a glass vase.

“Eat your food, Arthur.” She closed her eyes, finally able to take her bite of food. She ignored him, and he wondered where that burst of frustration or annoyance came from.

He did as he was told, and they ate their food quietly. Annabel still tapped her finger against her wine glass to the tune of the piano and violin in the background.

She paid, he ate the last piece of bread, and they were out and walking around the city as small little flakes started to fall.

Annabel made herself comfortable on a bench that sat right across the way from the large decorated tree. He followed almost like a lost puppy, sitting himself close to her but still so far away from her. The cigarette in his hand was starting burn away faster than he was able to smoke it, and so he threw it in the snow, groaning in annoyance as he did so.

Bells started to ring a tune before they struck ten times, indicating the hour to the people in the city. Annabel was bundling her arms under her armpits for warmth and all she could do was let the small amount of alcohol in her system take her away to that calming warmth she was starting to get so used to on this trip.

“We’re here to spread my parent’s ashes in their dream place.” She was so quiet that the wind nearly carried it away from his ears. “I don’t know why else you would ask that question.” His deep sigh was enough to cause her to look at him.

He looked confused, and unsure of what to do or say next, as if he was on trial for a crime he didn’t commit and from Annabel knew from his little stories, he had enough blood on his hands to turn the sea red.

But this one thing… this one little thing that he questioned her out of impulse was enough to get him confused and slightly flustered.

“You know… I’m glad you came along.” She admitted to him, her voice smooth to his ears and all he could do was let the warmth from her voice spread over him like wildfire. “If you didn’t, I don’t think I would have left the house.” She chuckled, staring up at the star lit sky and let out a heavenly sigh.

There was nothing for him to say to her, so he sat there, slowly inching himself closer to her body and waiting for her to push him away. That’s what he was so used to, that his mind prepared his body for her hands to stop his movements and shoot an incredulous at him.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she met him half way, moving as he moved. His nose and cheeks started to tingle from the cold but he knew that they flush was because of her as she rested her head on his shoulder and he placed his arm around her.

He felt her shoulders fall from the tension she was holding and he could help but hum at the immense about of warmth that she brought to his side.

“I’m glad it was you, Arthur Morgan…”

He peaked down at her; still trying to process those words, but he didn’t have time dwell on them as she looked up at him.

Her hands were small and soft as she placed them on his cheek and pulled him closer to her.

He was expecting a kiss so he had closed his eyes and waited, but then his forehead was pressed to hers instead. He opened them slowly, seeing the look on confliction knitted in her furrowed brows and the creases in the smile lines. Arthur _knew_ she wanted to, but she was forcing herself when she wasn’t ready.

So all he could do was pull away and place a small, lingering kiss on her forehead.

“Don’t push yourself for my sake, Darlin’.” He mumbled against her soft skin, taking in the smell of lavender and lemongrass from her hair that just seemed to fit her so damn _well_.

She could only nod against his lips, but she didn’t pull away from him, because she knew what she wanted.

They would have to just wait a little bit longer for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I made a reference to how tall Annabel was back in like... chapter three but I never said how I feel how tall Arthur is.  
> Sooooo  
> He's like 6'3"  
> Yep


	10. Chapter 8 - Blue Water, NM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this fucking chapter, I hate my fucking computer, I hate myself  
> Fucking ENJOY I GUESS.  
> Also, SMALL BUT ALSO HUGE WARNING, JUST IN CASE!!!  
> Tiny mentions of sexual abuse and rape within this chapter, but really it's only a wee bit. I didn't really want to make it a huge focus on Annabel because let's be honest, my girl is legit the best girl and she's a strong girl and she's a brave girl who won't let things in her past define her.  
> ahhhhhh, I need to find a better way to cope with my shit.

There was an awkward silence that seemed to follow them since that one night in Santa Rosa. They would pass on simple words, confirmations on where they were headed and such, but nothing beyond that.

They were both sure that they were blowing it way out of proportion, but then came the time they were passing over the Rio Grande as the sun was setting. The mountains were painted pink and purple and red and with the high contrast of the snow, it was almost unbelievable what they were seeing. They stopped by the river for the night, Arthur caught a few fish for their dinner and Annabel cooked them without a word.

This was going on for days, and Arthur managed to build up his courage during those days to finally talk to her.

They were in the middle of nowhere and no one was around, so it would be fine.

Right?

“Annabel?” she didn’t really respond or react when he called out to her. She was in her own little world, stoking the fire and flipping the fish every once in a while. “Anna.” He was firmer this time, louder too and that caught her attention easily.

Her head perked up, and her shoulders hunched forward as a reaction. She hummed, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands. “Yes?”

“You feelin’ alright?” she hummed her response, going back to cooking. He scowled at her, knowing that she was just trying to avoid talking about _anything_ between them and he hated it.

She always acted like a child when she was like this.

“Ya know, you can’t keep ignorin’ me like this.” He muttered, poking the fire with a stick a little too aggressively. Sparks were sent up into the air as he did so, and the crackling cause Annabel to scrunch her nose at him.

“And you can’t keep getting angry whenever I don’t want to talk.” She removed the filets of fish from the fire and gave some to Arthur, almost haphazardly.

“Yer avoidin’ me.”

“I am not avoiding you, Arthur. I just don’t want to talk.”

“Exactly! Yer avoidin’ me!” she groaned and rolled her eyes, and Arthur gapped at her. “You’re actin’ like a child.”

“What do you want to talk about anyways, hm? That night in Santa Rosa that you never seem to _shut up_ about?” she shot out, her words like molten hot knives to Arthur’s cold skin. “It was _nothing._ There was _nothing_ between us _._ It just _happened_ , so drop it.” She dropped her plate of fish by the fire with a loud clatter against the rocks and crawled into her tent. “I’m not hungry anymore, don’t bother me. Goodnight.”

He listen to her shuffle around in her tent until silence covered him like a blanket, if the blanket was made of annoying, scratchy wool that would always attract burrs. It was annoying and frustrated and it made him mad, or he thought he felt mad from the way that weirdly familiar feeling bubbled in his chest and made him lose his appetite as well.

He couldn’t really figure out the words to describe how he was feeling, but he could describe it with the last person who made him feel this way.

 _Mary_.

He pulled out his journal, needing to get out whatever he’s feeling in whatever way he can. He scribbled a few little doodles of local plants and the Rio Grande. He drafted the tents that were right across from him, with an arrow pointed to Annabel’s tent with a small note.

_-She’s worse with romance than I am._

_How many years has it been since I’ve felt this way, with the weird churning of my stomach and tightening of my chest. I can always blame it on getting old, but I know that Annabel has this power over me._

_Being sweet on her is like trying to ride a damn bull. You think you can handle the bucking, but than that bull twists wrong and soon enough you’re staring deep into the eyes of something that can put you six feet in the ground._

_I can tell she’s conflicted, and I know she’s dealing with mourning her father but she’s pushing herself much more than I had hoped or anticipated._

_I’m hoping that once we get to the next stop, she won’t be so damn moody._

* * *

 

They were a few days out from Bluewater, and Annabel was still giving Arthur the silent treatment.

She would let him know where they were, what city was next, that she was hungry or needed to relieve herself.

But other than that, she kept her mouth shut.

And while it annoyed Arthur to no _fucking_ end, she didn’t seem to care as long as she didn’t say anything that would ruin the progress.

 _Their_ progress, whatever that was.

They were still a few days out from their next destination, and Arthur was going to have to deal with her silent treatment for those few days.

“Are you gonna talk to me, or are you gonna just stare at me when I say yer name?” she shrugged, not pulling her face from her book. He started to grind his teeth to keep himself from groaning in frustration, and the sound of his teeth doing such a thing made him shudder softly.

She continued to read, looking up every so often to make sure she wasn’t going off the path, and Arthur could see her eyes flicking over the words on her page a little too quickly than normal.

“You ain’t readin’, are ya?” he chided, and he could see her shoulders stiffen just a hair that even he was surprised that he noticed it. “Annabel.”

She looked up from her book with a raised brow with a slight look of annoyance that she keeps getting pulled from her book. Her eyes were dark, and the clouds above weren’t making them any softer. Thick lashes fluttered from him then back to her book with a loud enough sigh to cause him to grimace and curl his lip into a pout.

He huffs, looking down at the horn on his saddle and wrapping his reins around them. His hands felt raw from the rubbing of leather, and his ass hadn’t felt this sore since his days with the gang. He shifted uncomfortably, and he was almost tempted to hop off and walk.

But then his feet would start to ache and he would be back in his saddle with the same sour look on his face.

By the time night came along with the moon coming over from the east, they were upon the city of Cubero.

Cubero was a small pueblo that seemed to be slightly abandoned and seemed to be more dirt than people. The only place that had any beds was the saloon and the saloon was full of sad looking people who stayed pretty quiet even as they hitched their horses and walked in.

As they pushed their way through the swinging doors, they noticed that no one looked their way.

No one seemed to care about the two as they ordered a room, some food and some alcohol. Arthur’s eyes found Annabel’s body as she walked her way through the quiet place, up the stairs and around the corner and into the room.

He nursed his bottle of cheap beer, and hoping to chase away the awful taste with some whiskey, but their whiskey was not any better.

He noticed the silent whispers around him, all in Spanish and the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight. His paranoia made the alcohol settle awkwardly in his stomach, and he refused a third bottle of beer that the bartender offered him.

He saw someone walk out the back of the saloon, their eyes meeting for a split second and his stomach dropped all too suddenly as the small man seemed to run out all too fast.

Arthur was getting too old to chase people around like he used to, and with how comfortable he’s been living these last three years, he can’t go assuming that everyone is out to get him.

Not anymore, at least.

He walked up the stairs, his heels hitting heavily against the old and weathered wood and his spurs making slight clicking noises with every step.

He knocked on the door to their room, and he was sure that it was a small room with a small bed meant for one person.

“You can come in, I’m decent.”

The first thing he noticed was the smell. It was musty, bare, and rather noisy from the slight moans and the slamming of the bed frame from the room next door. He could see the slight red tint that dusted over Annabel’s cheeks and with the way her lips were pursed into a thin line, he knew that she was embarrassed. The sounds that came from the other room caused her to look around awkwardly, but she avoided his eyes and all he could do was chuckle at how embarrassed she was by just the simple act between two people.

“You think it’s funny, huh?” she tried to make it seem like she was playing around, but her words seemed to fall out of her mouth with such an aggressive seethe. He looked at her face contort from the way her words fell, and he could tell she didn’t mean it.

“I don’t know why you’re getting all embarrassed.” He walks over to the wooden rocking chair with a tacky fabric that covered the cushy seat. He practically fell into the chair and realized just how sore he was from all the riding he was doing.

He looked around some more, seeing the lace curtains covering the small, single pane window then he saw the tiny dresser that had some half-melted candles that stained and stuck themselves to the wood.

There was some knock off pictures with some over exaggerated frames that was placed over a brick fireplace that seemed too small to make a decent fire to warm their cold bones.

“I was thinking of having a bath.” He looked over to Annabel, her body tilted slightly and her hair out of its normal braid. Soft curls were brushed through with her fingers as she pulled out some burrs and other unusual things out from her strands. She pulled a twig out of her hair with a wince, and threw it towards the fireplace. “But I’m kind of unsure of this place.”

“So it’s not just me…” He thought back to the small man who looked too young to be working in a milling town like this.

There was a long silence as Arthur stared out of the window from the creaky rocking chair and Annabel continued to mess with her hair, twisting it around and putting it in a low, messy bun.

He noticed how she seemed to stare at herself in the armoire mirror, and he could see the way her eyes looked herself up and down and the way her lips pressed into a thin line before curling into a sneer. It was almost as if he could hear her thoughts, the put downs and the disgust that seemed to just fall from the looks she was giving herself in the dirty mirror.

Her sigh made him pull his eyes away quickly, afraid of getting caught staring at something he admired so deeply even if she didn’t believe she could be admired in that way.

“Do you mind if I take the bed?” her voice was quiet, and only for his ears. The moans next door seemed to have stopped and he was sure that Annabel was thankful for that.

“I don’ mind.” He looked over to her, a small smile gracing his lips. She wasn’t looking his way; however, and so it was lost within the musty air and unusual silence of the pueblo.

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Goodnight, Anna.”

* * *

 

Bluewater was gorgeous.

As they came up over the hill that overlooked the valley, all they could see was flickering lights and soft noises of music and children’s shrilling laughter. There was some music being played loudly and the harmonic resonance seemed to calm Annabel as she trailed behind Arthur who seemed exhausted and sore from the last few nights of fitful sleep.

The trail turned from dirt to gravel to cobble stone and concrete as she looked up at the colorful Christmas decorations that covered the small village buildings. Bright lights with greens and reds, garlands covering the light poles and some doorways seemed to have some mistletoe hanging from them as a joke.

They checked into the hotel, and Arthur noticed something about the person at the front desk.

The same small stature, the same wary eyes, the nervous energy.

He was the same guy from saloon from Cubero.

Arthur knew that the moment he caused a scene, both the law and Annabel would be on him like ants to honey, so he watched him from under the brim of his hat as Annabel gave him sweet smiles and soft words.

He noticed the way the boy looked from Annabel to Arthur than back to Annabel, and he tried his hardest not to seem so damn nervous, but Annabel picked up on it; turning around to eye Arthur with annoyance as she continued to pay for their rooms.

Arthur’s steely blue eyes bored holes into the boy’s head as he took the bags and followed Annabel to their room.

The place smelled better than Cubero, but it still had the same awful taste in aesthetics and furniture. Old, creaky chairs with cheap cushions and a bed covered in quilts he thought were simply donated or bought from an estate sale. There was one lamp between the two beds, and that was the only form of light with in the small room.

“I ordered myself a bath, so I might be a while.”

She was out the door before he could answer.

All he could do was sigh, standing in front of the doorway for a moment before he decided to leave and explore the small village.

The place seemed to remind him Annesburg. Train tracks running through the middle of the town, homes that were built close to each other with working girls wooing drunken men into the little alleyways.

There was only one saloon in town, and it was obviously busy.

Men sat on the porch, drinking and chugging down their beer and liquor while the loud piano played some messy tune through the window.

As he pushed through the crowd of drunken men and working girls, he noticed the boy from hotel.

The same boy who was also in Cubero.

The boy didn’t seem to notice Arthur watching him from a distance, and Arthur could see the boy talking to a man with a wide brimmed hat covering his face. He could tell that the man was annoyed with what the boy was saying, placing a tight hand on the boys shoulder before dragging him outside and being followed by two other men.

Arthur; knowing that Annabel would murder him if he followed, stayed by the bar. He watched and waited, and waited, and waited…

Then he left and followed the group out the door towards the back.

He could hear the boys’ cries as the men started to punch him, hoping to get what they wanted to hear from him forcefully.

“Tell me what room they’re in, and I might not kill you.”

“I can’t…”

“Now is not the time to think you’re being a hero. What room is Arthur Morgan in?” the boy wheezed and whimpered as another punch landed against his stomach.

“The hotel across the street, top floor…” he wheezed again, and Arthur could tell how wet it sounded as he coughed and gagged. “There’s a woman… She doesn’t know of who he is, I’m sure of it.”

“Oh, save us the bullshit.” There was a gurgling sound that seemed to be followed by a resounding thump of a dead body, and Arthur knew that the boy was dead.

Hell, he would have done the same.

Arthur was about to turn the corner to try and sneak up on the men, but loud gunshots rang out and caused everyone within the saloon to go into a panic. There was no doubt this was a quiet town, and gunshots ringing out as loud as they did most likely broke the peace they had for quite a while.

Several more pops seemed to go off before he heard Annabel’s yelling.

As he rounded the corner of the saloon, he saw her with the Lancaster butted against her left shoulder, pointing it down at the man who seemed to threaten her. Arthur noticed the fury that radiated from her as she slowly moved closer to the man clutching his shoulder with fear and adrenaline running through her body.

Bodies started to push him around as the customers started to push past both him and the man with the large brim hat.

“Please, don’t kill me.”

“Will you leave us alone if you run?”

“Ma’am –,” she didn’t give him a chance to get his excuse out as she shot him through the forehead.

Something seemed to run through Arthur as he saw her pull the trigger without hesitation. First was the cold feeling that seemed to cause his heart to stop. The look in her dark brown eyes, as she lowered her rifle was chilling and for a moment, he saw something he didn’t want to see in her. He always saw her as someone who was soft and sweet and innocent, so the scowling look of survival that knitted her brows made goosebumps to rise on his skin.

Second, was fear. The fear of losing her to a life that she should never know, even though he knew that the lack of hesitation to kill has to come from experience. The fear of losing her to a bullet in the head because while she was strong and confident in killing, she lacked the skill in doing so fast.

Third was veneration and adoration.

She was gorgeous, her hair still dripping with water from her bath, and hanging down in loose curls down her back. A long sleeve dress that seemed to compliment her curves just right, and all he could do was stare at the woman in front of him that held no fear in taking a life. Her dark eyes seemed to soften as she dropped the rifle from her shoulder and she looked over towards Arthur, and he could see the anger and hatred leave her body and that familiar kindness and love began to replace it.

Shots rang out again, and he noticed the one man shooting towards Annabel and climbing onto his horse to run off like the coward he was.

Before Arthur could pull his revolver out, Annabel already had her rifle butted up and ready, firing shot after shot after shot at the man.

Her hands were too shaky to put a good shot on him, but the fight was done and she knew that it was time to go.

“Annabel!” her shoulder slumped forward, and she started to feel the stinging pain in her right arm as Arthur ran over to her.

Bullets had grazed her arm, ruining her dress and staining the thin layers with dark red blood. All she could do was groan in annoyance as Arthur came up to her, his hand twitching by his revolver while his other hand seemed to reach for her injured shoulder.

“Don’t touch it.” She hissed at him, pulling away from his roughly which caused her more pain, “We need to get out of here.” Her eyes seemed to soften as she looked up at him, and all he could do was place a hand on the small of her back.

A shiver ran through her body as he did that, and she realized just how cold it was outside compared to his warm hands.

“Grab the horses, I’ll grab the bags.”

* * *

 

They were a few miles out from Bluewater, hiding within the small amount of trees and brush from the law that was patrolling the radius of the village.

Arthur was making a fire, trying to cook up a rabbit that was unlucky enough to cross paths with him on their way out.

Annabel, was wincing and grimacing under the cover of the tent as she tries to stitch herself up with shaky hands and a woozy head. She kept poking the curved needle in the wrong spot, and she would inhale sharply and groan in frustration.

She was already three bottles into her small stash of gin, and she only had three left, but she was tempted to drink it all and let herself bleed out.

Arthur peaked into her tent after she yelped and dropped the needle which hanged loosely from the string that was two stitched in. Her whole body was shaking, tears stained her cheeks and her brows were knitted into a scowl, and all he could do was chuckle.

“Can you help me? I just can’t seem to get it.” Her voice was weak and wobbly as he placed himself next to her. Her hair was pulled over her left shoulder, out of the way from the wounds but still annoying her no doubt.

He had never stitched anyone up before, but he did poorly cauterized a gunshot wound once.

So he took up the needle in his inept hands, and started to poorly stitch up her wounds.

She chugged a bottle of gin, trying desperately to chase the pain away as he awkwardly poked holes and pulled the sutures taunt against her skin.

“You suck at this.”

“Shut it. You asked me for help, remember?” she could only chuckle before she winched and whined about the pain as the needle made its last suture. “That should hold.”

“Great.” She groaned as she started to dress the wound, “Thanks.” She sounded exhausted and drunk as she placed thick pads of gauze on her arm.

He lingered for a moment too long, the crackling of the fire being what pulls him away from her. He couldn’t help but want to ask where she learned to kill like that. He wanted to know what happened in her life that left her with the skills to put a man down without the nagging hesitation that most get when they kill their first man.

He wanted to know _more_.

“You’re staring, Art.” Her slurred words brought him back to the world, and he could only clear his throat from choking on his own words. “What’re you thinkin’ about?” she had dragged out her bedroll and laid herself next to him as he skinned the rabbit and prepared it.

“You didn’t hesitate.”

“Was I supposed to?” she questioned, laying on her back to stare at the starless sky. “It wasn’t the first time that I killed someone, if that’s what you’re trying to ask.”

“How many did you kill before this?” she hesitated slightly, sighing as she thought about it.

“He was my sixth victim.” The silence was thick, and he could tell it was a hard subject for her to talk about. “The five before him were men trying to take our house since we had paid the bank in full and everything, the land was ours. The men would constantly threaten my, so I would constantly have to put bullets in their heads.”

He stayed quiet, stoking the fire before placing the fillets of meat close to the fire.

“Since the house was so close to the river, they wanted to build another bridge for wagons and carriages but they wanted to build right were the house was. I told them no, they threatened that they would take it from me in whatever way possible, so I…” she made a finger gun up towards the sky before making a silly gun sound. “My mama taught me how to shoot, but I taught myself how to kill.”

“It’s a dangerous game to play, you know.”

“I would rather be alive with a home and skeletons in my closet, than having to live my days in a place that didn’t feel like home.” She grumbled slightly, picking at her hang nails and cuticles. “It’s not like I don’t have skeletons in my closet already.”

“Me too, darlin’…”

The silence overtook them again. The shrills of the cicadas in the trees, the loud howls of coyotes, and the screeching of owls seemed to fill in and all Annabel could do was relish in the sounds of the wildlife around her and the crackling of the fire as it died slowly.

“I never told you about my college days.”

“You remember that, hm?” she gave a breathy chuckle, looking up at him with tired eyes.

“I remember a lot, Arthur Morgan.” He felt a blush creep up from his neck and towards his cheeks when she said that. What else was there that she would remember that he didn’t know about? “You still want to know, don’t you?”

“I want to know about your scar.” She hummed, and he noticed that she started to run her fingers over where the scar laid on her neck.

“It was my second year of college,” her voice was quite, almost hesitant with what words were going to spill out from her throat. “I had fallen hard for a boy who went to the brother school to mine. His father actually ran the program that I attended.

“His name was Daniel Evans. His family had moved from Britain due to his fathers’ skills in surgery. He was a sweet boy, but ultimately too cocky at the end.” Her breath started to grow shaky, and he could tell that her throat was starting to close up as she talking about it.

“Near the end of the second year, he had proposed to me. He had said sweet things to me, and me being the young, foolish girl who believed in fairy tales, believed that he loved me.

“He had taken me to his father office, and he tried to do things that I wasn’t okay with. I told him no, I told him to stop but he was taller than me and bigger than me so he was able to push me over the desk and use me.

“When I tried to fight back, he pulled out a knife and placed it against my throat but I still fought and moved which caused this scar.” She continued to run her fingers over the puckered skin, “He only stopped when he saw my blood start to stain his fathers’ desk and papers and I took that chance to run and get myself fixed up.

“After that, I took my studies seriously. I worked hard to get out early, and I graduated two years earlier than all of my friends and classmates just so I could get away from him.”

“Where is he now?” Arthur couldn’t help but ask, not out of worry but out of an unfeigned curiosity.

“Who knows.” She shrugged, sighing deeply as the alcohol started to lull her to sleep. “I think he ended up moving back to Britain to finish his studies, but his father still teaches at the women’s college in Pennsylvania.”

He handed her a fillet of rabbit, but she refused it as she tried to drag her bedroll into her tent again.

“You’re gonna feel like shit in the morning if you don’t eat something now.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for, Arthur.” She fluffs her flat pillow and weakly smiles, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

And with that, he was left alone by the weakening fire and a whole cooked rabbit.

He couldn’t help but feel… something. There were no words to describe what he felt after that little story of hers, but it was something that bubbled and burst deep in his chest.

Maybe, just maybe… it was a sense of admiration.

He chuckled, leaning back slightly and looking up at the dark sky.

“She’s one tough sonovabitch, don’t you think?”

The wind blew past him, soft and brisk, almost as if in agreeance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate myself  
> I hate myself  
> I hate myself  
> I always feel weird when I write or even mention rape and things because it's always so cliche and overused so I wanted to mention it, and keep it as something thats like "Oh, that's something that pushed her to become better than everything around her so she could on only prove to herself but to others that things like this don't define her." but also it is a slight trauma that even I know of because I've experienced what she went through and yeah.  
> Let me know what you think, let me know if it's bad because tbh, I feel it.


	11. Chapter 9 - Flagstaff, AZ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo  
> I really have no excuse, because I just got hired on full time at my job and I've been writing up a bunch of new things and I feel like this story hasn't been the BEST it could be but honestly I really enjoy writing it so I will continue like I said I would.  
> And then move on to the next project that I have.  
> I hope this came out alright I had to rewrite it five fucking times.

She woke up startled; sweat dripped down from her chin, to her cheek, then over her temple before falling into her hairline.

She gasped, realizing that the tunnel vision that she was experiencing was from being upside down for too long and as she looked down at the dimly lit floor, she realized that it wasn’t sweat that was dripping from her face.

It was her blood.

Memories seemed to hit her harder than the fist from earlier, and she remembered the error of her ways.

She winced when she heard boisterous laughter coming from outside, or above; she couldn’t really tell her ears were ringing too much for her to get a grip on reality.

Steps started to pound above her, and she realized that it was probably both.

She groaned in pain, twisting her body awkwardly and squinting her eyes. It was so dark, too dark for to adjust her eyes to look that far within the room and she groaned in pain as she let her body twist back and swing her around, putting tension and pain on her ankles and wrists.

Annabel huffed, looking at the chains and rope around her wrists and attached her to the floor, and grimaced.

“I should have listened…”

* * *

 

 _-.- Four Days Earlier_ -.-

Mornings after heavy drinking on an empty stomach _sucked_.

Her manners always seemed to leave her as she struggled to get up, cursing as she did with achy joints, and running towards the bushes to dry heave whatever was left in her stomach.

It wasn’t much usually. Stomach acid and whatever alcohol that was left always seemed to burn her esophagus as it came up. She hated it, the way her stomach would roll and tense with every heave, the way her eyes would go cross eyed and make her feel like she was hanging upside down. It was terrible, and she should have eaten something, or not drink so fucking much.

Then she remembered why she drank so much as the burning, stinging pain radiated and throbbed from her shoulder. She grimaced as she wiped her mouth on her sleeve and leaned over her knees.

“Good mornin’.” Arthur pitched in, his tone filled with amusements and all Annabel could do was glare weakly at him.

“Don’t say a damn word…” she huffed, seemingly out of breath. He huffed a breathy chuckle and walked over with his canteen.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He tried to guide her over to the fire, but she snapped like a feral animal and wobbled over to the fire by herself. Her sloppy movements were something that reminded him of how a child looked when they were learning to walk; arms out to their sides and legs moving awkwardly to accommodate their growing bodies.

She looked _ridiculous_.

Annabel plopped herself down by the fire; letting out a small grunt as she landed hard on her bottom.

Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle as he found a place next to her, taking in her glares and grimaces. “I told you to eat las’ night.”

“I don’t _remember_ last night.”

“Light weight.” She gaped at him, and he could tell she was trying her hardest not to smile at his joke.

“Don’t be so rude.” He stabbed a chunk of rabbit fillet with his hunting knife and handed it to her.

“Eat up, I’ll pack up the tent.”

“We’re leaving so early?” she didn’t really protest as she took the knife from him and staring at him with disbelievement. “The sun is barely up.”

“Yeah, well after the commotion that you caused last night I want to get out of her before they do their mornin’ rounds.”

Annabel stared at him for a moment before she started to remember how they ended up out here.

She had shot a man.

Two, actually.

She couldn’t help but feel sick again with her stomach churning and gurgling loudly as Arthur started to tear down her tent.

She didn’t mean to put a bullet in them, but they had threatened her. They had put her in a corner with a knife to her throat and she didn’t want to seem like a helpless little thing.

She _wasn’t_ a helpless little thing.

Annabel started to gnaw on the piece of meat on the knife as she remembered blowing the one man’s brains out with his own revolver. She remembered the way that his skull cracked and splattered and how her ears rang from the loud pop of the gun.

She remembered the horrified screams of the guests in the hotel, and the cursing of the other man who tried to put a bullet in her.

Her reactions were both a blessing and a curse as she closed her eyes and sighed heavily. She didn’t want anyone to suffer; she didn’t want to hurt anyone.

 _Why was the world like this_ , she thought. This cruel world was nowhere near as tamed as the papers always claimed.

This country was still so wild and free and it was ready to eat her whole.

“Anna?” she looked up at Arthur as he placed a soft hand on her shoulder. There was a tight, tense silence that seemed to hand between them a lot more often than she really hoped and all she could think of doing was talking. She merely wanted to open up about her thoughts and her worries but she was still so angry at everything that she knew that she would only scream if she tried.

“I’m alright. I promise.” He hummed, knowing full well that she was full of shit.

But he didn’t argue because they had argued enough.

“Everythin’s packed up.” He started to put out the fire by kicking dirt over the slowing flames. “I think it’s time for us to move on.”

She looked over to the small village of Bluewater that seemed to be bustling and awake and most likely cleaning up the mess from last night. Annabel knew that he was right, that moving on from this spot would mean that would be less heat on them, especially since they were a few days away from the border of Arizona.

As she thought about crossing over the border from New Mexico to Arizona, she couldn’t help but feel a huge sense of freedom that succumbed her fears and worries and sadness. _It was time to move on_ , she thought as the small rays of sun hit the back of her neck that was followed by a brisk winter breeze.

With a sigh, and a simple smile she looked up at Arthur, “I think so too.”

* * *

 

The New Mexico/Arizona border wasn’t as exciting as Annabel made it seem in her head.

There wasn’t even a sign that said they were in Arizona.

They didn’t even _know_ they were in Arizona until they hit the first town that was labeled on the map.

Houck was a dinky little town that was still surrounded by dirt and cacti and rolling brush, but it was still a pleasant place to stay overnight while the two of them restocked their items.

Annabel felt something crawl up her throat as they checked into their room, and even though she had asked for a room with two beds they had given them a room with only one bed.

Now that’s really not a problem, it’s not the first time this trip that it was only one bed that they offered.

But for some reason, something settled within her stomach as she stepped into the extremely clean room.

Arthur seemed unfazed as he placed their bags in the corner, and honestly he seemed happy that the place was clean and not so dusty like the others seemed to have been.

But Annabel felt like something was going to happen. Something terrible and she couldn’t do or say or eat _anything_ , even as Arthur tried to coax her to do any of those three things.

She wasted the stew that he brought her, and sat at the desk looking over the map and the other papers with only a candle as her light. She went over her route over and over and over but she just couldn’t seem to shake the feeling of uneasiness.

Arthur noticed it all, starting with the way she tugged and twirled her hair with shaky hands and how tense her shoulders were and how she tapped her pen on the desk over and over and over causing that god awful ticking…

_Tick tick tick tick tick._

“ _Jesus_ , Annabel.” He groaned loudly, and Annabel jumped at his voice. Her eyes were wide, and her cheeks were red; flushed with embarrassment.

“Sorry, I just…” she sighed, letting the pen roll out of her hand and onto the desk, “I have this God awful pit in my stomach and not matter how long I stare at this map and my letters, I just can’t seem to shake it.”

He saw the way her brows furrowed with worry, the small frown that graced her lips, and the creases in her nose as she scrunched it in disgust. She was frustrated and worried and exhausted but forcing her to go to bed would be a terrible idea.

But getting her out of the room to try and relax would also be impossible to do.

He stared at her in silence, a hand covering his mouth as he watched the way her eyes shifted from him, to the window he was sat next to, then to the ugly carpet that laid underneath his feet.

They sat like that for a long while, letting the silence around them consume them; suffocate them.

There was a knock on the door, followed by a hesitant hum and Arthur couldn’t help but let his hand fall to the wooden handle of his revolver.

Annabel seemed tense as her eyes followed Arthur, who was already up and walking over to the door and opening it a crack.

Outside stood a woman, her face caked in makeup and her bodice squeezing her out a bit too much. Her lips were painted a bright red, and her nails seemed well manicured as she leaned in the doorway and pushed the door open a little more at the sight of Arthur.

“Hey there, handsome.” Her drawl was definitely fake and exaggerated, and her smile seemed forced through her eyes couldn’t help but look Arthur up and down.

Annabel did her best to hide her amusement as Arthur stiffened at the term of endearment but he dropped his hand from his gun at the sound of her. His eyes looked over the woman, just as an instinctual thing and he had to clear his throat and look away for a moment.

“You lookin’ for some fun?” Annabel couldn’t help but giggle softly, covering her mouth as Arthur seemed to be choking on his words.

The woman didn’t seem to notice Annabel’s giggles, and continued to pressure softly. “A big man like you is definitely _not_ from town and fresh meat is always a good thing.”

Annabel bit her lip hard at the sight of his reddening cheeks and the tension in his shoulders.

“Ah, not interested.” Arthur goes to shut the door, but the woman blocks the door with her foot.

“How can I change yer mind, honey?” she bats her lashes at him, and he can’t help but place his hand on his gun again.

“You best be gettin’ on, Darlin’ before you get yerself into something you can’t get out of.”

Arthur noticed something flick over the woman’s face; a different set of emotions that he wasn’t expecting from a working girl, but more from someone trying to make a calculated move.

She didn’t say anything more and with a quick smile, she moved on.

Arthur watched her sway away from their door, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Annabel was right about her bad feelings.

Women did have a tendency to have a sixth sense, or whatever people called it.

She stood by the desk, worried and ready to move as he closed the door was a soft click of the latch and loud _thunk_ of the deadbolt. Her worry was back, and she started to chew on her nail as he tried to remove the scowl off of his face.

“Should we leave?” her voice was soft, and her stomach started to churn with that same uneasiness from earlier. “It won’t be too hard to pack everything up again.” He held a hand out, quietly telling her to keep calm, but she wouldn’t be able to keep calm when there was no calm to attach herself too.

“Easy, Anna.” Arthur made quick strides over to the window, slightly moving the sheer curtains over to watch and see if he could see the woman walk out from the hotel. “Movin’ now after something like that would be suspicious.”

“Do you think it's Micah and his gang?” Annabel’s voice was quiet as she spoke his name, almost as if that one word would set Arthur off on a rampage.

But all he did was grit his teeth and scrunch his nose, “Unfortunately, it jus’ might be.” He continued to watch out the window as he spotted the woman trudge her way through the muddy roads and towards the general store, though it was closed at this time of night.

There were a few men standing outside the place, talking her up softly and he knew at that point that they were here for him.

He was pulled from his thoughts of escape by a small, soft hand within his. Her fingertips glided over his calloused palms and he noticed just how warm she was as she laced her fingers with his before placing her other hand on his forearm.

Time seemed to move slowly as she started to pull him away from the window, and away from the worries that plagued him. He can’t imagine if she was dragged into the middle of this feud that was _almost_ family related. If she was taken from him, hurt by these people who were in alliance with the man that ruined his family.

He couldn’t have that happen to her.

He just couldn’t.

“We should move.” Her voice was but a whisper, but it still carried to his ears. He noticed he was standing in the middle of the room, and she was so close to him with her brows knitted in worry and fear.

He really didn’t expect his body to move on its own like it did, and he was a little surprised by the jerky movements of his own hand as he pressed his thump over her brow to try and smooth out the creases.

He noticed the soft sigh that escaped her lips as he did that, and he noticed how her eyes fluttered closed as his hand moved down to cup her cheek.

The small calluses on his thumb run over her freckled cheeks and a sense of calmness washed over him as he listened to her sigh deeply. He noticed the way her head leaned into his hand, and he couldn’t help but grin a little at the sight of her just melting under his touch.

She was content and warm with his hand simply on her cheek, though he heart was beating so hard that she was afraid it was going to pop out of her chest.

He was going to say something; but his brain didn’t work as fast as his lips did as he was trying to mumble out some form of a sentence.

But a knock pulled them from their thoughts, and each other.

Arthur pulled Annabel behind him; almost instinctually and a little too harshly as he heard her wince at his grip.

There was a groan of annoyance on the other side of the door, before another knock.

“Do you think they’re still in there?”

“I doubt it, and I don’t really want to go in.”

“We should though, just in case.”

“Nah, there’s no way they would stay after what happened in Bluewater.”

“Well, if David asks if we checked, it’s all on you.” There was footsteps stomping down on the stairs, before silence overtook them again.

Arthur looked behind him and towards Annabel, who’s eyes were fixed on the door with such intent he thought she was going to rip it off the hinges with her mind.

“I think we should go.” He grumbled, and she couldn’t help but feel defeated. She didn’t know why; he was finally agreeing with her to keep moving, but she wanted to sleep in a bed for a night.

But all she could do was nod. “Okay.”

* * *

 

The trek to Flagstaff was rough.

It was hard to hide from people in a wide open, snowy desert and passing through town to just try and keep your head low while they were a day or two behind was no easier.

Annabel suggested running off the path; hike along the Little Colorado River that ran through the Grand Canyon and lose them within the forest that surrounded Flagstaff. It was a solid plan, and it would shave a few days from their entire trip.

If only they weren’t running out of canned food and other supplies.

And if only Annabel could shut up about how exhausted she was.

She was becoming saddle sore, and Arthur was no hearing the end of her complaining and huffing like a child. Her thighs were becoming sore and the last time she looked, they were bruised lightly with yellow and purple and blue.

“What’s the next stop?” He heard her rustle with her bag to pull out her maps.

“Winona.” She mumbled, squinting at the small dot she made on her paper. “I don’t really know how far out it is.”

“That’s fine, but for the sake of my sanity and your ass, we should get there soon.” He grumbled in annoyance, and she couldn’t help but huff once more.

“Not _my_ _fault_ that we just had to be chased by some goon’s crazy lackeys because he can’t let go of the past.”

“It has nothing to do with the past.”

“Well, whatever it is, your _sanity_ isn’t bothered by my saddle sore arse.” She grumbled at him, trying her best to shift comfortably in her seat with a small grimace. He noticed the way her legs lifted her off her seat, and how she pushed her heels down in her stirrups when she adjusted over and over. He also noticed how big the skirts on her dress were as she sat back down slowly while fixing her skirt. She didn’t have to sit in a weird position because her skirt wouldn’t accommodate her legs, instead, she had a skirt that spilled perfectly over her thighs and over the back of her saddle.

He cleared his throat and look forward, between his mares ears and tried his best to keep his eyes on the road ahead of them, but he would throw side glances ever now and again and see the way her back straightened and how her heels would shift and squeeze Flynn’s sides to keep him at his trot.

Her baby hairs were being blown back by the soft wind, and the fur collar of her winter coat laid flat from said wind.

To him, this was nothing but beauty at its finest.

To her, she felt disgusting.

She had noticed his eyes on her, and the way he would contort his face and look away only to look back at her. The cycle was vicious for him; to have his eyes caught by someone like her even though he knew that she wasn’t going to move with his acts.

And he was starting to get antsy because he specifically remembered her leaning into his hand at the hotel back at Houck, but she still won’t give him the time of day.

Why were women so damn confusing?

“Arthur.” Her voice was strong, loud but her eyes were soft and sweet and filled with exhaustion.

He also started to remember that she hasn’t had a proper night’s sleep since Bluewater; if anyone could call that drunken sleep proper.

“Winona is a few miles out,” she pointed to a sign, large and colorful and pointing out the exact mileage to the next town. “Should we just ride it out?”

He sighed, stretching his back out and he felt Morrighan shudder under him and snort with annoyance. He patted her shoulder as she started to dig with her hoof.

“As long as we don’t push them for too long. If you’re getting saddle sore, no doubt they’re starting to feel it, too.”

“Alright.” She stretched once more, before putting away her map and humming softly. “To Winona.”

* * *

 

They didn’t get to stay in Winona.

They barely got to set foot in Winona.

The first thing they both noticed was how quiet and empty the place seemed, despite the high buildings and large saloon. There were no horses hitched in front of any building, and no music seeping from the liquor halls like they usually would at this time of night.

No… there was nothing but snow, mud and horse shit.

The second thing they noticed was one man that sat in front of the hotel, sipping a dark amber drink and humming a tune that seemed unfamiliar and odd.

“Do you know how hard it is to try and track you, Mr. Morgan?” he didn’t look up from his drink as he swirled it slowly in the glass. “You killed a few of my men, and honestly… I’m happy that you did. Those who can’t last on my team don’t really deserve to live, you know?”

He had such an unusual accent, with no drawl or roll of certain syllables or letters. It was smooth and it caused goosebumps to raise on Annabel’s skin as Arthur hid her behind his body. She gripped her Lancaster tightly against her chest while Arthur placed a cautious hand on his revolver.

“Oh, there’s no need for that.” He waved his hand at him, motioning him to sit down at the table. “Come. Sit with me. Let’s have a chat, yes?”

Arthur didn’t move from his position from the stairs, his empty hand behind him and holding Annabel’s forearm tightly just in case he had to pull or push her out of harm’s way.

But he never got the chance to do that.

Her arm was ripped from his grip and all he could think of was her, to keep her safe and from harm’s way.

But she had a cloth over her mouth and she struggled for a moment before her knees gave out from under her and her arms dangled at her side.

All he could do was grit his teeth; snarling at the men who dragged her away and into the hotel. He made an internal promise to kill anyone who laid their grimy hands on her as he watched the door slowly close with a soft click.

“Come. Sit.” He heard the man pour him a glass of whiskey, “We don’t have anything to distract us anymore, and it’s late. Let the pretty woman sleep and have a drink with me.”

Arthur was hesitant; slowly moving over to the wooden chair and sitting down. He realized then how sore he was from riding for so long, and just how many people were around him with guns in their arms.

He sat across from the man, who started to light a cigarette, and noticed more about the man’s face as it was softly illuminated by the small flames light.

“You were the man from Blackwater.” Arthur mumbled, bringing the glass to his lips and slamming the small amount of liquor back. It was cheap whiskey, probably the best you can get from this town.

“Yeah, that was me.” He chuckled softly, blowing smoke from his nose and taking a sip from his glass. “She’s quite the woman, you know. All curves, soft voice, small, and smart.” He filled his glass once more, and poured Arthur another. “You got lucky. Not only a doctor, but the daughter of a Miller. He’s quite the legend.”

Arthur stayed quiet, but didn’t refuse the drink that was poured for him. He started to feel a weird cramp within his stomach, but tried to ignore it.

“You can’t deny she’s a pretty one, and I’m sorry that I had to lay my hands on her back at Blackwater. I had to get something for the boss.”

Arthur started to cough, and he leaned over the table with tunnel vision. He gritted his teeth, snarling at him as he tried to get up from his chair only to land harshly on the ground.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Morgan. I truly am. But it looks like your time has come to an end.”

Arthur groaned as he tried so hard to not succumb to the drugs within his system, but he was so tired that all he could so was let it take over.

_“Take him somewhere, grab the doctor woman, and let’s go.”_

_“But, Sir –,”_

_“Please, don’t argue with me.” A sigh, “Grab the woman, and leave Arthur. That’s an order.”_

* * *

 

Arthur had woken up cold and damp, with his mare pulling at his hair with her teeth.

Which hurt.

 _A lot_.

He didn’t really move from his position in the mud and snow until he realized that there was another horse pulling at his hair.

A horse without a rider.

_Anna._

He shot up from his position, not caring for a moment that his vertigo and dizziness made his movements choppy and uncoordinated.

She was gone.

They had taken her, and she was gone and in the hands of some fucking _psychopath_.

Oh, lord have mercy on this man’s soul because Arthur _fucking_ Morgan was going to put a bullet in his head.

* * *

 

Annabel felt groggy, and sore, and bitterly _cold_.

He throat hurt like hell, and breathing in made her cough and spit up something bitter and metallic.

Was it blood?

She didn’t remember blood tasting so bitter and warm, but she couldn’t see what the color was in the dark room she was stuck in.

Chains rustled and as she moved her head to look around, and she realized that everything was upside down.

She also realized that she was as naked as the day she was born, as she looked up at the ceiling and the dark brick walls.

Annabel huffed, trying to raise her arms up ( _down…?_ ) but the burning on her wrists and the heavy chains that were attached to them kept her from doing so.

She was alone, and cold, and she could feel herself growing dizzy from the rush of blood to her head.

“Flagstaff is far enough from him that he wouldn’t know where she is.”

“I don’t know David…” it was a woman, and god she sounded familiar. “It’s not that far from Winona, I feel like we should wrap it up here and move somewhere else until you get your fix.

“I don’t want to move on just yet, so I’m not going to.” There was a moment of silence; and maybe it was actually hesitation. “But… be prepared to move suddenly. Just in case.”

“Yes sir.”

There was a moment of silence before the sound of a lock being clicked open resounded within the room.

The door opened, and light flooded it and for a moment Annabel thought it might be the stairwell to Heaven. And she was almost thankful that maybe… just maybe… she was dead and she could finally rest her weary head.

But than a demon walked down the steps, and she knew it wasn’t real.

“You’re finally awake.” She huffed, and turned her head away from him. There was nothing else for her to really do other than that. “Oh, don’t be so bashful, Darlin…”

She kept silent; her glare standing steady at him.

“So, not bashful. Just angry.” He sat himself across from her, staring at her up and down with a tempting smile.

“What do you want?” she snapped at him, and she jerked her arms against her chains with a wince.

“I used to study psychology overseas.” He chuckled, ignoring her glares and seething annoyance, “I have always had a peaked interest in it, but I ended up learning a lot about myself while over in college.”

“Does it look like I care?” she snapped at him, and tried to turn around to face away from him. She heard him growl like some feral animal and for a moment in time; she was terrified.

He grabbed her by the neck, then by the hair and jerked her around so she was looking at him.

“Don’t _fucking_ interrupt me when I’m talking, it’s extremely rude.”

She shivered and she didn’t know if it was from fear or from the cold, but it was involuntary.

“ _Fuck_ you.” She spat at him, her blood boiling and her words leaving her snarling back at him. Annabel was afraid of him and the power he held over her in this very moment, but that didn’t stop her from baring her teeth at him and showing him the power she could hold.

If she wasn’t hanging upside down, naked, and in a cold and damp cellar.

He smirked at her; letting her go with a small chuckle.

Before punching her.

Over.

And Over.

“Don’t talk back, Darlin.” She was gasping for air at this point, coughing and wheezing for air as blood ran from her nose into her mouth. She gagged and hacked it all up, but it kept coming and she was sure that her nose was broken from the beatings with how her eyes watered up.

“I’ll be back for you… You and I have _a lot_ to talk about.”

Then she was left in the dark.

She felt herself start to disassociate, and she only thought that because of what she read years and years ago.

The hours and days that passed her felt like seconds and minutes.

She hadn’t eaten, but her stomach never growled.

She hadn’t had water, but she never felt dehydrated.

Annabel figured she was slowly rotting away but she couldn’t feel a thing.

She couldn’t hear a thing, either.

She couldn’t hear the gunshots that rang out in the crisp air, or the frightened screaming of men as they started to fall like flies, or Arthur’s angry cursing and yells as he continues to kill the men one by one by one.

But when the muffled shots and yells fell to silence and the cellar door was opened; everything came flashing back to her.

The punches, the cold air, the small moment of accepting death.

Tears started to fall silently as Arthur’s footsteps fell hard against the wooden staircase.

He didn’t seem to hesitate getting her down – awkwardly – and setting her slowly into the chair.

Everything was a blur for her as she stared at Arthur, but heard nothing but her own rushing blood and thrumming pulse in her ears.

The cold seemed to go away as Arthur shrugged his thick winter coat off and wrapped her in it.

With how small she was compared to him; she practically swam in that roughed up, blue coat. But it was warm, and it was familiar so she let the smell of musk and cigarette that was stuck within the wool of the collar take her.

She barely heard Arthur’s voice, but she saw his lips move; beckoning and calling for her in that gruff voice of his.

She let him guide her out into the cold, her bare feet digging into the uneven, frozen mud. Her toes curled from the cold, and her eyes teared up as the light from the sun burned.

She noticed the forests. The thick redwood forests, the sound of the birds that chirped and screamed into the howling winds. The rustling of little animals that ran around the forests ground. The elk; the deer; the wolves and the bears.

“We made it.”

“What?”

“Were in Flagstaff.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm debating on posting a new story but I really don't know.  
> It was gonna be a modern AU RDR2 story but I have a little bit more research to do sooooo.  
> Let me know though, I have a few chapters written up already.


	12. Chapter 10 - Williams, AZ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm late  
> I didn't want to come

For how long it took them to get to Flagstaff, they didn’t get to stay very long.

It was a newly growing lumber town, the train tracks were barely ready to bring any business in and the only thing that was built was the saloon, a post office and a lumber office. The workers lived in tents outside the lumber office, but most of them found home within the warmth of the saloon.

The saloon – with its folk songs and its drunken men – was the only place that had a room for them.

No one was used to having visitors around, let alone a woman around.

Imagine their surprise when a _woman_ comes into the stuffy saloon; covered in blood, mud and Arthur’s thick blue coat.

It falls quiet, and Annabel is left looking downwards from the prying eyes around her while Arthur pays for a room in silence. He holds her close, glaring at those who stare at them and while he lightly guides her up the stairs, he can tell the slurred whispers and hushed words were about them.

They stepped into the room fast, locking the deadbolt and the chain lock that was offered on the door.

Annabel’s sighs of relief was a worrying sound for Arthur, with how strong she was as they rode slowly up the path towards the dim lights and muffled songs.

She was sore – no doubt about that – and she was ready for a bath of some sorts.

If only he could get one for her.

“I need to reset my nose.”

“What?”

“When I was…” she was looking at him now, his jacket shrugged off and placed over the footboard post, “punched… in the face. He broke my nose.”

Arthur didn’t know how to feel about this new information, he would have to figure that out at a later time.

“Okay.” He was slowly looking through the drawers of the dresser for some clean cloth.

“I need you to… ah, do it for me.” She was nervous, most likely.

Arthur didn’t know why. It couldn’t be that bad, having to realign a nose.

He’s broken his nose so much, that it’s always going to be crooked at the base and he’s always going to have a hard time breathing through it but he’s old. He doesn’t care.

But then Annabel explained to him what needed to be done, and he started to figure out _why_ she was so nervous about it.

She sat on the edge of the bed, closest to the lamp on the night stand as he kneeled in front of her with a small groan.

“You need to take this.” She hands him a thin metal rod that was rolled up in gauze, “and stick it in my nose.”

He was speechless, and completely unsure about doing this too her.

“Can’t we wait till we hit the next town?”

“I don’t really want to wait two or three days. I can’t breathe through my nose right now and I would appreciate it if you would _just_... fix my nose.” Her voice is tight, her shoulders are tense, and her brows are knitted together with pain and worry and exhaustion.

All Arthur could do was sigh.

“Okay.”

She walked him through the gruesome operation, and Arthur had to prepare himself for the pain that he was about to put her through for the sake of breathing again.

As he started to push the gauze covered metal rod into her left nostril, she was gripping his undercoat tightly and squeezing her eyes shut.

“Good. Now, pull it up and push it to right.” She used her free hand to guide his as he let out a tight sigh.

Her groans and gurgles of pain were painful to hear.

He only pressed up lightly and the moment her tears slid down her cheeks and hit his thumb, he pulled away roughly.

“’m sorry, darlin’…” he mumbled, and she swallowed hard.

“Don’t stop.” She seemed breathless, and still in pain. “The sooner that this is done, the better for both of us. So please, Arthur.”

So he tried again, doing his best to ignore her pain filled whines. He hates the way she doesn’t pull away from the pain, and he hates the way his voice seems to falter as he continues to send apologetic words towards her.

There’s a soft crunching sound from her nose, and she lets go of a breath that she didn’t know she was holding.

They both take a moment as Arthur slowly pulls the metal rod with gauze that’s now covered in blood, and takes the clean cloth from the dresser and a small bottle of rum from his satchel to help clean her cuts.

“Congratulations, Arthur.” Her voice is thick with a small sob, he knows it’s from the pain, but she’s smiling weakly at him and he can’t help but chuckle at her. “You just reset you’re first nose.”

“Am I a doctor now?”

“I know some good schools you can apply for, it’s not too late.” She winces at his soft touches. He’s _trying_ to clean her wounds, but she’s already feeling so much pain and he doesn’t want to add any more to it.

“I don’t think I would be good at school.”

“You never know, Arthur.” He’s cleaning her split lip, his thumb grazing over them and she can’t help but smile. “Thank you.”

“I should’ve known better…”

“Don’t blame yourself.”

“Do you see what that bastard did ta ya? Or should I grab the mirror?” she winced at the sharpness of his voice, and she was almost sure that it cut her a lot worse than any punch David landed on her.

“I’m well aware of what he did to me.” She was quiet, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes look anywhere but Arthur’s eyes. They seemed to have found their ways to his lips, and the way his smile lines creased with his frowns or with his pursed lips.

His lips were chapped, dead skin seemed to be picked at by either his teeth or fingers. The stinging pain from the cloth soaked in alcohol was dulling a little until he would move to a new spot on her face.

“Does it look bad?”

He chuckles, “No, it ain’t too bad.”

They stay quiet for a while, enjoying each other’s company and soft touches. Arthur can tell she’s tired, with the way her eyes droop and the slowing of her soft breathes. He tries to cover the small cuts with something, but she swats him away and scrunches her nose.

“Let them scab, they’ll heal better that way.”

“You gonna have some decent scars, ya know.” Her breathy laugh is small.

“I know, but I don’t mind.”

Arthur finds that he doesn’t either.

* * *

 

She sleeps for almost an entire day, snoring a lot louder than normal because of her nose.

Arthur explores while she’s asleep, trying to get a good idea on where the next town would be and how long it would take them to get there.

He takes his time getting back to the stuffy saloon with its curious dwellers that are filled with cheap liquor and false rumors. He enjoys the slow ride through the dark forests and hills back to Flagstaff, knowing well enough that once he gets back, he’ll have to deal with the fearful eyes and terrible, drunken whispers.

But once he gets back, he’s met with no looks, no whispers, no questions.

The only thing he’s met with is Annabel, sitting in bed with a large bowl filled with food and a book in her lap and her maps scattered around her on the bed.

She looked _adorable_ , with her chubby cheeks filled with food and scars that were red and inflamed from the process of healing.

“I got you a bowl too.” She pointed her spoon towards the dresser behind him, and there sat a bowl that was just as large filled with fresh, steaming food. “The bartenders’ wife made some pot pie.” Her voice was slightly muffled, and Arthur couldn’t help but smile at it. “She seemed happy to have another woman come through this town, despite how I look and everything.”

“’m assumin’ the reason why I didn’t get much looks was because of her.”

“Most likely.” Annabel shrugged, moving her papers away to make room for Arthur. “Sit with me?” her voice was quiet when she asked, and it almost seemed like she was trying to hide her request as she made it.

But he heard her.

And he took her up on the offer.

He already had shrugged off his coat, and thrown his hat onto the dresser next to her satchel as he took the fresh bowl of pot pie in his hands. It smelled divine, large chunks of chicken and carrots with freshly made crust and white sauce.

It's times like these that he forgets that he used to eat Pearson’s grub every day.

He finds himself next Annabel on the double bed, as she reads some lines from the book in her lap. It was a book that the wife had let her borrow, and the woman was a fan of inflated Wild West stories.

Arthur couldn’t blame people who romanticized the Outlaw life, but he knew for a fact that from how the book described the life of the young gunslinger, it was all false fantasies meant to rile of up woman and frustrating the men in their lives.

Annabel was laughing softly at certain bits before reading them to Arthur, who seemed to join in and add in how the things that were written _would never fucking work_.

Food was finished fast, but their fun with the silly book was not.

They were shoulder to shoulder, Annabel reading line after line as Arthur pulls a bottle from his bag for both of them to enjoy.

This goes on for hours, until Arthur finds himself tipsy enough to mumble and groan about the true life of an outlaw; of a gunslinger.

Only problem is, Annabel is fast asleep with her head leaning on his shoulder and her ankles crossed over one another.

He enjoys the silences as he nurses the bottle of whiskey that he produced from his bag, and he continues to look over the book that they were reading together.

Line after line after line, he finds himself lulling to sleep with a warm belly, a slow mind, and a comfort that he hasn’t felt in years.

His head slumps to the side, laying on top of Annabel’s, with a book in one hand, a bottle of whiskey in his lap, and her hand in his.

* * *

 

They were planning on riding straight to the Grand Canyon, straight through the valley and right to the edge of the Canyon.

Only one thing stopped that plan.

Annabel.

She had the hardest time climbing into her saddle that following morning, and about six hours into the trek, she had to remove herself from her saddle and beg Arthur for a break.

All he could do was sigh, and let her take her break before getting her back in the saddle and moving on.

And that’s how they ended up in the city of Williams.

It was dainty, and muddy but a whole lot cleaner than all the other towns and cities they passed through on their trip.

The townsfolk weren’t too keen on celebrating the upcoming Christmas cheer. No, they were focused on rebuilding a few businesses and homes that had seemed to be burned and charred from a terribly recent accident.

Both Annabel and Arthur felt like it wasn’t just some accident, but they kept their noses pointed down and moved on to find a place to stay.

The fire did one horrible thing to someone’s lifestyle, but it sure did bring in money for the other man. Both hotels were filled to the brim, and the only place that had rooms were the saloon and some families that seemed willing to bring in some strangers.

After what happened in Winona, Annabel was wary and paranoid; flat out _refusing_ to stay in some stranger’s house. Arthur wanted to argue, saying that a bed would do her good, but with the look she gave him as she held the sleeve of his winter coat, all he could do was bid a thank you and a farewell to the family that offered their house to them

“We can stay on the outskirts?” Annabel posed it as a question, but Arthur knew better.

And he knew better than to question it.

So, they set up a small camp on the outskirts of the town after hitting up the general store and buying some canned foods for the night.

He noticed how nervous she was as she stoked the fire with a skinny twig and held her knees close to her chest. With knitted brows and a mind a million miles away, she just played with the slow burning embers that heated up a can of beans and a slab of rabbit meat that they managed to get from a butcher.

“Anna.” His voice was soft, but too soft to catch her attention over the fire and her thoughts. He moved closer, slow in his movements and soft in his touches along her shoulders and back.

He didn’t expect her to jump so abruptly, as she put a few feet between them and pointed the charred stick at him. Wild eyes settled to worried ones as she realized it was just Arthur who touched her in an attempt to sooth her. His arm was still open and out, and she moved back timidly.

Arthur’s chest ached as she settled against his side in such a slow manner that showed a fearful side he rarely ever saw, but his arm didn’t wrap around her. It was placed behind her, propping him up as he pressed his side against her.

The watched the fire crackle and pop and listen to the way the meat sizzled over the fire and how the beans slightly boiled over, but they stayed in each other’s space with an unwavering feeling of contentment.

Annabel moved first, looking up at him with sheepish eyes that fluttered when he looked down at her. Her nose was still scared up, but crusted over with a dark reddish brown scab and didn’t move or fold properly when she wrinkled her nose. The bags under her eyes showed that she didn’t sleep the night before, and he only wished he could give a sense of ease so she could sleep easy through the night.

The fire sizzled as the oil and fat from the meat dripped down onto the fire, and while they were both hungry, they couldn’t peel their eyes away from each other.

Again, she moved first, placing her hand down on the cold dirt to push herself up slightly to press her lips against his.

There was a sense of soft desperation in her eyes, and he couldn’t tell if she was ready for this – for _him_ – or not, but that didn’t stop him from following her lips when she pulled away from him.

They moved slowly, knowing full well that any brush of her nose was going to cause her to pull back and yelp in pain. As one hand supported her, the other was softly placed on his cheek with a thumb tracing circles over his cheekbones.

He pressed himself into her and she lets him push and lay her down on the hardened dirt. He’s at her side, lips moving at a leisure, idle pace while he has a hand placed on her waist.

She whines a little – high pitched and sickly sweet – and he groans in response, nearly climbing on top of her as she grips and grabs at his soft suede coat.

He straddles her thigh, pressing himself against her and she responds with pushing her thigh up against him. She’s a tease, through and through, but she’s _his_ tease and they were both okay with that.

He moves from her lips, slowly nipping and licking down to her jaw and neck and her sighs and muffled up whines merely cause him to buck and grind down on her thigh. He’s drunk on her scent – lavender and lemongrass – and he moans against her skin.

They were so close to each other, their soft breathes and little noises blending together into the night next to the smoldering fire. He’s massaging her thigh with his left hand and holding her other with his right, and he would have kept going; he would have given her pleasure all night long.

Over the smell of lavender and lemongrass and a sweet musk, something was burning.

His senses were flooded with the thought of Annabel, and when Annabel called his name in a sharp gasp as he nipped at her neck, he only bucked his hips.

“Stop… The food… _Arthur_ …” He pulled away, a thin trail of saliva connected his lips to her neck and he realized that he had unbuttoned her collared dress and left a tiny mark at the junction of her neck and shoulder.

He licked his lips as a groan rumbled heavily in his stomach, before he looked over to see the slab of rabbit meat smoking slightly and the beans boiling over the edges of the can.

He pushed himself up, looking down at Annabel as she slipped her hand out from his.

“I’m gonna… I think…” she’s stuttering over her words, looking away from Arthur with a bright red face.

He doesn’t know where to feel amused or ashamed, but he pulls away enough to let her sit up and move into her tent and closing the flaps behind her.

He sits by the fire, pulling the burning food away in hopes that it was salvageable.

And he thinks to himself, as he checks over the burnt puck of meat and tar like beans, that the food was a metaphor for his and Annabel’s relationship.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short, I kinda had to like... force??? myself to write this and I kinda wanted to push them a little with their relationship.  
> I hope you enjoyed it because I wasn't even drunk when I wrote this so if there's mistakes it's because I'm an idiot.


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